Chapter V: Part 5

After the islanders in the Eastern Ocean had found out how rich Korea was, they were not satisfied with their own land. They seemed to have eyes like dragon flies, that wanted everything they saw. They kept on borrowing until they got many of the plants and animals which they now possess, which as everybody knows came from the Land of Morning Glory.

Even the neko, or Korean cat, was carried over to the islands; though in some way it lost its tail on the voyage or else had it bobbed. This is the reason why poor pussy in these islands seems to carry around with her something like a corkscrew, instead of a tail. Moreover, when the Korean puss, that had so long been accustomed to scrambling over the roofs and back alleys at home, was introduced into the islands, it was thought to be a wild animal, and for a long time was treated as a fox or badger would be. However, because it kept down the rats and the mice this bob-tailed puss was highly valued.

Yet not content with borrowing so many things, the greedy islemen thought they might as well have all Korea and everything in it, and then go further and overrun China.

So they sent a great army in a mighty fleet of ships to invade the Koreans’ country. They took horses with them, but as their soldiers were fed chiefly on rice, salt fish and pickles, they did not need any wagons. They had only oxen to draw their carts, for they had never trained horses to pull anything, but only to be pack and saddle animals.

This army of islanders marched to the capital, in which were palaces, and pagodas. Then they sent one of their armies along the sea front and another along the west coast. They expected to march into China, but two things happened to prevent this. So, after they had wasted and tarried in the country for five years, they gave it up and were sent home flying.

From the north a Chinese army came to the help of the Koreans and drove the islemen to the coast. But when they got there they found their ships were gone. A clever Korean admiral had invented an iron-clad ship that rammed and sunk their war junks. So their army had to wait till a new fleet of ships had been built and then came over to take them back.

But before the islanders left Korea they smashed statues and monuments, broke up images and even the observatories for the study of the stars. They took marble pagodas apart to load on their ships and carry away. They enticed, or forced to go with them, hundreds of the Korean potters, artists, and craftsmen.

For, by this time, the islanders had given up living in huts of straw and roving about like Arabs or gypsies. They had cities with paved streets, like as in Korea, though they had none of the beautiful marble pagodas and images and temples, for everything was of wood, while thousands of large buildings and images in Korea were of stone, chiseled into beautiful forms.

Now in Korea there were some beautiful daughters of the land and many noblemen and men of courage, who determined not to be carried away from their dearly beloved country. Of this, in southern Korea, the Rock of the Fallen Flower is to this day the witness.

Over three hundred years ago, when “the terrible fighting dwarfs,” as the Koreans called their enemies, came, they encamped in a town where lived a beautiful dancing girl named Longka. Being a ge-sang, (gei-sha) or accomplished young lady, she could sing beautifully. The islanders took this lovely damsel prisoner and made her a waitress in the general’s tent.

One night a great banquet was given in a famous pleasure hall named the Cliff House, because it was built on the high bank overlooking a deep river. All the chief captains were invited and the large room was illuminated with a thousand wax lights. These were tall and square candles, moulded into a beautiful shape, and each one was painted and decorated with figures of flowers, birds and pet animals. Very odd and ornamental is a Korean candle.

O how charming was the dancer, and what a beautiful sight to behold, was her graceful posing! For, Korean dances tell stories of birds and flowers, of summer, and of lovely snow-covered landscapes in winter, of a boat in a storm, of a tiger in a trap, of a brave soldier in battle, or a sad lady in the palace, or of the fairy tales of the Western Queen Mother and many others. Those who watch the dance and know the manners and customs, the dancer’s gestures and poses, the motions of her fan and sleeves, besides the games of the children, the sports of the people, the harvest songs and the fun at the festivals, can read, because they see, the story of each told in most graceful motions. There are several languages, besides words which are spoken, and these appeal to the eye, instead of the ear.

The pretty dancer was robed in pure white, with ermine-edged slippers, and jeweled girdle, and her shining hair was done up like a queen’s. Loud was the applause among the spectators at the end of every dance.

After the dinner was over, the general of the islanders grew very lively, because he had drunk much wine, and was not satisfied to see the dances of the lovely girl. Some of the rude soldiers also wanted to waltz with the beautiful maiden. But it was not the custom for Korean virgins to dance, or waltz, with male partners; for in this Country of Gentle Manners, dancing is by the sexes apart.

Yet the rough islanders insisted and forced her so hard, that she felt that both her own modesty and her country were outraged. She thought of the thousands of her countrymen, brothers, fathers and friends, who had died on the battle field, in defending their beloved land. Why should not she? So, pretending to yield to her country’s enemies, she drew the general out of the banqueting hall and down toward the river, close to the edge of the rock.

Before he knew her purpose she seized his hands and leaped out, dragging her enemy with her over the cliff, and both passed into the other world.

She died for her country. To this day, the Rock of the Falling Flower is pointed out, and the story is told that here was exhibited a woman’s devotion to her country. Around this rock poets have entwined their verses, while romantic associations cluster like the azalea flowers, that cover the hills of Korea with a riot of color, making their land seem to the natives the most beautiful on earth.

A FROG FOR A HUSBAND

Off in a valley among very stony mountains, lived an old farmer named Pak We and his wife. His land was poor and he had to toil from sunrise to sunset and often in the night, when the moon was shining, to get food. No child had ever come to his home and he was in too great straits of poverty to adopt a son. So he took his amusement in fishing in the pond higher up on the hills, that fed the stream which watered his millet and rice fields. Being very skilful he often caught a good string of fish and these he sold in the village near by to get for himself and his wife the few comforts they needed. Thus the old couple kept themselves happy, despite their cheerless life, though they often wondered what would become of them when they got too old to work.

But one summer Pak noticed that there were fewer fish in the pond and that every day they seemed to be less in number. Where he used to catch a stringful in an hour, he could hardly get half that many during a whole day.

What was the matter? Was he getting less skilful? Was the bait poor?

Not at all! His worms were as fat, his hooks and lines in as good order, and his eyesight was as keen as ever.

When Pak noticed also that the water was getting shallower, he was startled. Could it be that the pond was drying up?

Things grew worse day by day until at last there were no fish.

Where once sparkled the wavelets of a pond was now an arid waste of earth and stones, over which trickled hardly more than a narrow rill, which he could jump over. No fish and no pond meant no water for his rice fields. In horror at the idea of starving, or having to move away from his old home and become a pauper, Pak looked down from what had been the banks of the pond to find the cause of all this trouble. There in the mud among the pebbles he saw a bullfrog, nearly as big as an elephant, blinking at him with its huge round eyes.

In a rage the farmer Pak burst out, charging the frog with cruelty in eating up all the fish and drinking up all the water, threatening starvation to man and wife. Then Pak proceeded to curse the whole line of the frog’s ancestors and relatives, especially in the female line, for eight generations back, as Koreans usually do.

But instead of being sorry, or showing any anger at such a scolding, the bullfrog only blinked and bowed, saying:

“Don’t worry, Farmer Pak. You’ll be glad of it, by and by. Besides, I want to go home with you and live in your house.

“What! Occupy my home, you clammy reptile! No you won’t,” said Pak.

“Oh! but I have news to tell you and you won’t be sorry, for you see what I can do. Better take me in.”

Old Pak thought it over. How should he face his wife with such a guest? But then, the frog had news to tell and that might please the old lady, who was fond of gossip. Since her husband was not very talkative, she might be willing to harbor so strange a guest.

So they started down the valley. Pak shuffled along as fast as his old shins could move, but the bullfrog covered the distance in a few leaps, for his hind legs were three feet long.

Arrived at his door, Mrs. Pak was horrified at the prospect of boarding such a guest. But when the husband told her that Froggie knew all about everybody and could chat interestingly by the hour, she changed her manner and bade him welcome. Indeed, she so warmed in friendliness that she gave him one of her best rooms. All the leaves, grass and brushwood that had been gathered in the wood-shed to supply the kitchen fire and house flues, was carried into the room. There it was doused with tubs of water to make a nice soft place such as bullfrogs like. After this he was fed all the worms he wanted.

Then after his dinner and a nap, Mrs. Pak and Mr. Pak donned their best clothes and went in to make a formal call on their guest.

Mr. Bullfrog was so affable and charming in conversation, besides telling so many good stories and serving up so many dainty bits of gossip, that Mrs. Pak was delighted beyond expression. Indeed, she felt almost like adopting Froggie as her son.

The night passed quietly away, but when the first rays of light appeared, Froggie was out on the porch singing a most melodious tune to the rising sun. When Mr. and Mrs. Pak rose up to greet their guest and to hear his song, they were amazed to find that the music was bringing them blessings. Everything they had wished for, during their whole lives, seemed now at hand, with more undreamed of coming in troops. In the yard stood oxen, donkeys and horses loaded with every kind of box, bale and bundle waiting to be unloaded and more were coming; stout men porters appeared and began to unpack, while troops of lovely girls in shining white took from the men’s hands beautiful things made of jade, gold and silver. There were fine clothes and hats for Mr. Pak, jade-tipped hairpins, tortoise-shell and ivory combs, silk gowns, embroidered and jeweled girdles and every sort of frocks and woman’s garments for Mrs. Pak, besides inlaid cabinets, clothes-racks and wardrobes. Above all, was a polished metal mirror that looked like the full autumn moon, over which Mrs. Pak was now tempted to spend every minute of her time.

Four or five of the prettiest maidens they had ever seen in all their lives danced, sang and played sweetest music. The unpacking of boxes, bales and bundles continued. Tables of jade and finest sandalwood were spread with the richest foods and wines. Soon, under the skilful hands of carpenters and decorators, instead of oiled paper on the floors, covering old bricks and broken flat stones set over the flues, and smoky rafters and mud walls poorly papered, there rose a new house. It had elegant wide halls, and large rooms with partitions made of choicest joiner work. It was furnished with growing flowers, game boards for chess and had everything in it like a palace. As for the riches of the larder and the good things to eat daily laid on the table, no pen but a Korean’s can tell of them all. In the new storehouse were piles of dried fish, edible seaweed, bags of rice, bins of millet, tubs of kim-chi made of various sorts of the pepper-hash and Korean hot pickle in which the natives delight, to say nothing of peaches, pears, persimmons, chestnuts, honey, barley, sugar, candy, cake and pastry, all arranged in high piles and in gay colors.

The old couple seemed able to eat and enjoy twice as big dinners as formerly, for all the while the adopted Bullfrog was very entertaining. Mr. and Mrs. Pak laughed continually, declaring they had never heard such good stories as he told. The good wife was, however, quite equal to her guest in retailing gossip. One of her favorite subjects, of which she never tired, was the beauty and charm of Miss Peach. She was the accomplished daughter of the big Yang-ban, or nobleman, Mr. Poom, who lived in a great house, with a host of servants and retainers in the next village, and Mrs. Pak insisted there was no young woman in the world like her. It was noticed that Mr. Bullfrog was particularly interested when Miss Peach Poom was the subject of the old lady’s praises.

After a week of such luxury, during which Mr. and Mrs. Pak seemed to dwell in the Nirvana, or Paradise, which the good priests often talked about, Mr. Pak’s full cup of joy was dashed to earth when the Bullfrog informed him that he intended to marry, and that Mr. Pak must get him a wife. Still worse than that, Pak was informed by the Frog that he would have no one but Miss Peach, the daughter of Poom, so renowned for her beauty and graces.

At this, old Pak went nearly wild. He begged to be excused from the task, but the Bullfrog was inexorable. So, after inprecating his wife’s tongue, for her ever putting it into the frog’s head to marry Miss Peach, he donned his fine clothes and set out to see Mr. Poom. He expected to be beaten to death for his brazen effrontery in asking a noble lady to marry a frog.

Now this Mr. Poom had long been the magistrate of a district, who had squeezed much money wrongly from the poor people over whom he ruled, and having won great wealth, had retired and come back to his native place to live. This man had two daughters married, but the third, the youngest and most beautiful, Miss Peach, was now eighteen years old.

Arriving at the Pooms’ grand mansion, Mr. Pak told of the suitor’s wealth, power and fame, high position and promise, and how he had made the old couple happy.

Old Poom had pricked up his ears from the first mention of riches and power, and became highly interested as Pak went on sounding the praises of his prospective son-in-law.

“And what is his name?” asked Mr. Poom.

Here Pak was in a quandary. He knew that the frog family was the oldest and most numerous in the world and was famous for fine voices. He fell into a brown study for a few minutes. Then, looking up he declared that he had so long thought of the suitor’s graces and accomplishments, that he had forgotten his name and could not then recall it.

So Mr. Poom, in order to help Pak out, ran over the list of famous families in Korea, reciting the names of the Kims, Sims, Mins, the Hos, Chos, Kos, Quongs and Hongs, etc., etc., for Mr. Poom was an authority on the Korean peerage.

“It is none of these,” said Pak. “I deeply regret that I cannot recall the name.”

“Strange,” said Mr. Poom. “I have named all the families of any standing in the kingdom. What is his office or rank and where do his relations live?”

Pak was pressed so hard by Mr. Poom’s searching questions that at last he had to confess that the suitor for the beautiful maiden was not a man but a frog.

“What! do you want me to marry my daughter to a pond-croaker? You shall suffer for thus insulting me in my own house. Slaves, bring the cross-bench and give this wretch twenty blows.”

Forthwith, while four men brought out the whipping bench, three others seized poor Pak, stripped off his coat, and bound him with feet and arms stretched out to the bench. Then a tall, stalwart fellow raised the huge paddle of wood to let fall with all his might on the bare flesh of the old man.

But all this while the sky was darkening, and, before the first blow was given, the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, and floods of rain fell that threatened to overwhelm house, garden, and all in a deluge. The hail, which began to pelt the cattle, was first the size of an egg and then of stones, like cannon-balls.

“Hold,” cried the frightened Mr. Poom. “I’ll wait and ask further.”

Thereupon the lightning and thunder ceased, the sun burst out in splendor.

Mightily impressed by this, Mr. Poom at last agreed to let his daughter become the bride of the frog, not telling her who her husband was to be. Within an hour, while she was getting ready, a string of fine horses and donkeys with palanquins loaded with presents for the bride and her family appeared. Besides boxes of silk dresses and perfumes, head-gear and articles for a lady’s boudoir, there were troops of maidens to wait on the bride. Arraying Miss Peach in the loveliest of robes, they also dressed her hair, until, what with satin puffs and frame, jade-tipped silver hairpins, rosettes and flowers, her head-gear stood over a foot high above her forehead, on which was the bride’s red round spot. Then when the happy maiden had sufficiently admired herself in the metal mirror and heard the praises of her attendant virgins, she entered the bridal palanquin—a gorgeous mass of splendor. According to custom, her eyes were sealed shut and covered with wax, for a Korean bride sees nothing of her husband until the end of the feast, when she meets him in the bridal chamber.

So to his house she was carried in great pomp and with gay attendance of brilliantly arrayed maidens. The marriage ceremony and the grand supper were happy affairs for all the guests, even though the bride, according to Korean etiquette, was as if blind, quietly and patiently waiting sightless throughout the whole joyful occasion. The actual ceremony was witnessed only by the foster-parents and the bridegroom.

When in the bridal chamber, the bride having unsealed her eyes, and her vision being clear, she looked up at the one she had married and found not a man, but a frog, she was furiously angry. She burst out into a protest against having such a bridegroom.

Gently and in tenderest tones the bridegroom attempted first to comfort her. Then, handing her a pair of scissors, he begged her to rip open the skin along his back from shoulder to thigh, for it was very tight and he was suffering pain from it.

In her bitter disappointment at being married to a frog, she seized the scissors and almost viciously began to cut from nape to waist. Her surprise was great to find what seemed to be silk underneath the speckled skin. When she had slit down two yards or so, her husband the frog stood upon his hind legs. He twisted himself about as if in a convulsion, pulled his whole speckled hide hard with his front paws, and then jumping out of his skin, stood before his bride a prince. Fair, tall, of superb figure, and gorgeously arrayed, he was the ideal of her dreams. A jeweled baldric bound his waist, embroidery of golden dragons on his shoulders and breast told of his rank, while on his head was the cap of royalty with a sparkling diamond in the center. Yet no clothes, handsome as they were, could compare in beauty with his glorious manhood. Never had she seen so fair a mortal.

Happy was the bride whose feelings were thus changed in a moment from repulsion and horror to warmest affection and strongest veneration. The next morning when, to the amazement of his foster-father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Pak, the prince presented himself and his bride at breakfast, he told the story of his life. As son of the King of the Stars he had committed some offense, in punishment for which his father condemned him to live upon the earth in the form of a frog. Furthermore he had laid upon his son the duty of performing three tasks. These must be done before he should be allowed to come back and live in Star Land. These were, to drink up all the water in the lake, to eat all the fish, and to win a human bride, the handsomest woman in the world.

All the precious things which he had presented to Pak and his wife to make their old days comfortable, and the gifts sent to the bride’s house before her wedding-day, had come by power from the skies. Now, leaving his foster-parents on earth to enjoy their gifts, he must return home to his father, taking his bride with him. Scarcely had he spoken these words than a chariot and horses, silver bright, appeared at the door of the house. Bowing low to his foster-parents, and stepping in with his bride, the pair disappeared beyond the clouds.

From this time forth a new double star was seen in the sky.

SHOES FOR HATS

Many centuries ago when Korea was named Chosen, or the Land of Morning Splendor, the island-kingdom out in the eastern sea, where the sun rises, was called The Land of the Dragon-Fly; which some foolish people call “the Devil’s Darning Needle,” because its body is so slender, its wings so wide and its eyes so big. The Koreans called these islanders “dwarfs,” because they were not tall of stature, though they were very warlike and brave. The isle men had no books or letters, and were very rude in their manners.

Therefore, many kind teachers, filled with the spirit of Great Buddha, crossed the sea, from Everlasting Great Korea, to teach these islanders politeness, and how to read and write, and to build pagodas, and temples and schools.

This is the reason why these islanders, who had no story books or writing before the coming of the Korean teachers, have no ancient history of what happened long, long ago when Korea was a great country. So the grandmothers in the islands used to tell their children the good old fairy tales, which many elderly people know by heart, and can relate without reading, thinking that the kings and queens they talked about were real people, when they were only dreams.

The islanders call their country The Land Where the Day Begins, and there are many fairies in these islands, some good, some bad.

So today, these island people make pictures in books and plays on the stage, and “movies” about these Koreans. They get up tableaux and pageants to tell how first the fairies and the King’s servants from these far off islands, long ago came to Korea. They wanted to learn politeness, how to make and wear the proper kind of clothes, and how to draw and paint, how to make pictures, how to build houses, how to dance and sing, and make music and play on instruments, how to teach and have schools. For the good fairies always like to do pretty things.

Yet instead of being grateful for what they had received from Korea, there was one of these island people, a famous woman, who was envious because she lived in a poor land while the Koreans had a rich and beautiful country. Instead of swamps and grassy plains, with plenty of wild beasts and birds, and only a few people, poor and miserable, Korea was rich in rice fields and orchards full of fruit. Flowers grew in plenty. Birds, deer, and rabbits were numerous in the mountains and the scenery was beautiful.

In the warm waters millions of fat fish swam and were easily caught. So the people had plenty of food to eat. Down along the bottom of the sea were most lovely water plants of rich colors, yellow, purple, green and white, with sea weeds, corals and sponges. In some of the sea caves lurked the giant crabs, cuttle-fish and every sort of marine monster.

Still further down, below, deeper than any line could fathom, dwelt the Dragon King of the World Under the Sea and his Queen, with genii and dragons, and all her attendant maidens. These made sweet music, and here amid the mermaids the fairies had a happy time.

These islanders had priests who went down by the seaside when the tide was low. There they called on the spirits of the deep to grant them a safe voyage, good luck, victory over the Koreans, and safe return. There they stood and watched the rippling waves as the breezes blew over the sea.

The first living thing that poked its nose above the waters was the guardian of the seashore and the tides, called the Salt Water Giant. He came up with his head all covered with clam and oyster shells, sea weed, shrimps and whatever grows in the sand or bottom of the ocean. He had to push aside hundreds of white jelly fish that bumped against him, as the clumsy old chap made his way up to the surface and then waded to the shore.

Now this giant fairy was a grumpy sort of a fellow, and seeing the Queen and her soldiers he growled out: “What do you want?”

Very politely the Queen’s messenger made a soft answer to the big fellow and begged him to announce to his master, the Dragon King of the World Under the Sea, that the Queen wished him to help her.

Would he please order all the great fish and every sea monster to go ahead and pull her ship forward?

Would he also present her with the two sparkling tide-jewels, which govern the ebb and the flood tides? If he would do so, then, in the one case her enemies might be overwhelmed. In the other case, the ships of the Koreans would be left high and dry on the shore. Then she could march through the country and get all the gold and gems, and furs and jewels, and clothes and nice things to eat, and bring them back to her own country.

With the tide jewels in her hand she could certainly conquer.

“And if you please, one thing more,” added the messenger.

“What else do you want?” growled the Salt Water Giant.

“Have your master, the Dragon King, give our queen power to capture many hundreds of the Korean artists, craftsmen, teachers, and men of books and letters. We shall make these men prisoners and bring them to our country and be civilized.”

“And what will you do in return to me and my master for all this?” roared the Salt Water Giant. His voice was like a booming cannon for he was as mad as fire.

“As soon as we get back safely to these shores, our Queen will build a temple in honor of the Dragon King. We shall burn incense to him, and our people will pay him our devotions.”

“Well then, what else?” roared the Salt Water Giant.

“There will be a shrine also dedicated to you, my lord, and we’ll get the best Korean artists to decorate it it in wave patterns, with drops of foam.”

The Salt Water Giant bowed and disappeared with a tremendous splash. Down, down, down, he went to report to his master, the Dragon King of the World Under the Sea.

It was necessary for the dignity of His Majesty, that the Queen and her soldiers should wait until flood tide; for the Dragon King never appeared except at high water. So the Queen’s servant launched her ship and waited out on the waves for the answer they hoped to get.

No sooner did the tide mark on the sea beach show that the waves had reached the highest point of flood tide, than the sea opened. The white foam curled round the Queen’s ship while all on board held their breath, to see what was coming. They knew they would soon behold a sight to make them shiver, for the great deep was mightily stirred.

First rose into view a terrible dragon’s head, on the helmet of the King. It had eyes that seemed to flash fire. Then His Majesty appeared. In a great sea shell, as big as a bushel and held in both hands, he had the two tide jewels.

These he presented to the Queen and then quickly disappeared beneath the waves. The last thing they saw was the dragon’s head, which, besides the two eyes like lightning, had teeth that could bite a boat in half, even when full of men. This monster could swallow down the whole crew in his mouth, that was as wide as a man-eating shark’s. His enormously long black moustaches were as stout as ships’ cables.

Immediately after receiving the tide jewels, the Queen of the barbarians landed on the southern coast of Korea. After a few weeks, having fought many battles with the Koreans, she made them bring to her their gold, jewels, furs, fans, rice and pretty things.

She and her people cared nothing about slaves, or common prisoners, but whenever and wherever they could find a painter, an artist, a costumer, a maker of pottery, or a man of books, or a priest, they seized and took him along. They carried over with them, to the island, a great treasure of gems, gold, ornaments and pretty clothes. They also took away many seeds of flowers and fruit trees, such as lemons, oranges, apples and pears.

In the islands to which they came, these smart men of skill and knowledge from Korea taught the islanders, who had lived like gypsies or Indians, how to build houses, palaces, and temples, to make fine clothes, to paint pictures, and to be like the Koreans and Chinese who knew all about these things. So the islands became rich in fruit, rice, grain, pagodas and temples. After this the island people wore lovely clothes, and had fine manners.

Now the islanders were great borrowers. They invented very few things themselves, but depended on their neighbors for much of what they had. So they filled both their heads and pockets from what they had brought from Korea. But they often made funny mistakes. When they wanted to learn about fine manners and fine clothes, they asked what, on solemn occasions, and in time of ceremony, they should put on their heads.

The Koreans were greatly offended at these savages from over the sea for invading their country and taking away their artists and craftsmen. So they now resolved to play a trick on the islanders.

So when men from the isles in the ocean sent a company of men to Korea and asked for caps to put on their heads, and be shown how do to things properly, the Koreans in contempt gave them their old shoes, which had strings on them to tie over their feet.

But the islanders, who loved to go about with little clothing on their backs, and usually went barefoot, did not know what these shoes were. They thought these were some kind of head-gear, hats or bonnets.

So they put them on their heads like skull caps and tied them with the white strings down under their chins. These were like tapes and held the caps on around their necks.

So to this day the islanders, when making offerings to the fairies, wear this head-gear and think their shoe-caps are very fine.

THE VOICE OF THE BELL

When Tai Jo, the great general and first King of Korea, founded a new dynasty, he moved the capital near the great river Han and resolved to build a mighty city called Han Yang, or the Castle on the Han. It was to have a high wall around it and lofty gates on each side. However, the people commonly called the city Seoul, or Capital. All the roads in the kingdom lead to it.

Happy was he when the workmen, in digging for the foundations of the East Gate, came upon a bell. It was a lucky omen and they carried it at once to the king. He had it suspended over the entrance to his palace and there it still hangs.

But such a bell could only tinkle, while King Tai Jo wanted one that would boom loud and long. He was especially anxious about this, for in Silla, once a rival state, there had hung for centuries one of the biggest bells in the world and Tai Jo wanted one that excelled even that famed striker of the hours. He would have even a larger bell to hang in the central square in the heart of Seoul, that could be heard by every man, woman and child in the city. After that, it must be able to flood miles of hill and valley with its melody. By this sound the people would know when to get up, cook their breakfast, sit down to supper, or go to bed. On special occasions his subjects would know when a king’s procession was passing, or a royal prince or princess was being married. It would sound out a dirge when, His Majesty being dead, all the land must mourn and the people wear white clothes for three years and Korea becomes the land of mourners. The guardian spirit of the city would have its home in the bell.

Word was sent out by messengers who rode on big horses, little ponies, donkeys and bulls to all the provinces, publishing the king’s command to all governors, magistrates and village-heads to collect the copper and tin to make the bronze metal. The bell was to stand ten feet above the ground and be eight feet across; that is, as high and wide as a Korean bedroom. On the top, forming the framework, by which the bell was to be hung, were to be two terrible looking dragons. Weighing so many tons that it would balance five hundred fat men on a seesaw, only heavy beams made of whole tree-trunks could hold it in the belfry, which must be strong enough to stand the shaking when the monster was rung. It had no clapper inside, but without, swung by heavy ropes from pulleys above, was a long log. This, men pulled back and then let fly, striking the boss on the bell’s surface. This awoke the music of the bell, making it toll, boom, rumble, growl, hum, croak, or roll sweet melody, according as the old bellman desired.

So the procession of bullock carts on the roads to Seoul creaked with the ingots of copper. Many a donkey had swallowed gallons of bean soup at the inn stables before he dropped his load of metal in the city, while hundreds of bulls bellowed under their weight of the brushwood and timber piled on their backs to feed the furnaces, which were to melt the alloy for the casting of the mighty bell.

Deep was the pit dug to hold the core and mould, and hundreds of fire-clay pots and ladles were made ready for use when the red-hot stream should be ready to flow. All the boys in Seoul were waiting to watch the fire kindle, the smoke rise, the bellows roar, the metal run, and the foreman give the signal to tap.

When the fire-imp in the volcano heard of what was going on, he was awfully jealous, not thinking ever that common men could handle so much metal, direct properly such roaring flames, and cast so big a bell. He snorted at the idea that King Tai Jo’s men could beat the bells that hung in China’s mighty temples or in Silla’s pagodas.

But when there was not yet enough and the copper collectors were still at their work, one of them came to a certain village and called at a house where lived an old woman carrying a baby boy strapped to her back. She had no coin, cash, metal, or fuel to give, but was quite ready to offer either herself or the baby. In a tone that showed her willingness, she said:

“May I give you this boy?”

The collector paid no attention to her, but passed on, taking nothing from the old woman. When in Seoul, however, he told the story. Thus it came to pass that many heard of the matter and remembered it later.

So when all was ready, the fire-clay crucibles were set on the white-hot coals. The blast roared until the bronze metal turned to liquid. Then, at the word of the master, the hissing, molten stream ran out and filled the mould. Patiently waiting till the metal cooled, alas! they found the bell cracked.

The casting was raised by means of heavy tackle, erected at great expense on the spot, and the bell was broken up into bits by stalwart blacksmiths, wielding heavy hammers. Then a second casting was made, but again, when cool, it was found to be cracked.

Three separate times this happened, until the price of a palace had been paid for work, fuel, and wages, and yet there was no bell. King Tai Jo was in despair. Yet, instead of crying, or pulling his topknot, or berating the artisans, who had done the best they could, he offered a large reward to any one who could point out where the trouble lay, or show what was lacking, and thus secure a perfect casting. Thereupon out stepped a workman from the company, who told the story of the old woman and said that the bell would crack after every cooling unless her proposal was accepted. Anyway, he said, the hag was a sorceress, and if the child were not a real human being no harm could be done.

So the baby boy was sent for and, when the liquid metal had half filled the pit, was thrown into the mass. There was some feeling about “feeding a child to the fire demon,” but when they hoisted the cooled bell up from the mould, lo, the casting was a perfect success and every one apparently forgot about the human life that had entered the bell. Soon with file and chisel, the great work was finished. The hanging ceremonies were very impressive when the bell was put in place on the city’s central square, where the broad streets from the South Gate and those looking to sunrise and sunset met together. Suspended by heavy iron links from the staple on a stout timber frame, the bell’s mouth was exactly a foot above ground. Then, around and over it, was built the belfry. The names of the chief artisans who cast the bell and of the royal officers who superintended the hanging ceremonies were engraved on the metal. It was decided, however, not to strike the bell until it was fully housed and the sounder or suspended log of wood, as thick as the mast of a ship, was made ready to send forth the initial boom.

Meanwhile tens of thousands of people waited to hear the first music of the bell. Every one believed it to be good luck and that they would live the longer for it. The boys and girls could hardly go to bed for listening, and some were afraid they might be asleep when it boomed. The little folks, whose eyes were usually fast shut at sunset, begged hard to stay up that night until they could hear the bell, but some fell asleep, because they could not help it, and their eyes closed before they knew it.

“What shall the name of the bell be, your Majesty?” asked a wise counselor.

“Call it In Jung,” said King Tai Jo. “That means ‘Man Decides,’ for every night, at nine o’clock, let every man or boy decide to go to bed. Except magistrates, let not one male person be found in the street on pain of being paddled. From that hour until midnight the women shall have the streets to themselves to walk in.” The royal law was proclaimed by trumpeters and it was ordained also that every morning and evening, at sunrise and sunset, the band of music should play at the opening and shutting of the city gates.

So In Jung, or “Masculine Decision,” is the bell’s name to this day.

But as yet the bell was silent. It had not spoken. When it did sound, the Seoul people discovered that it was the most wonderful bell ever cast. It had a memory and a voice. It could wail, as well as sing. In fact, some to this day declare it can cry; for, whether in childhood, youth, middle or old age, in joy or gladness, the bell expresses their own feelings by its change of note, lively or gay, in warning or congratulation.

At nine o’clock in the first night of the seventh moon—the month of the Star Maiden of the Loom and the Ox-boy with his train of attendants, who stand on opposite sides of the River of Heaven and cross over on the bridge of birds, the great bell of Seoul was to be sounded. All the men were in their rooms ready to undress and go to bed at once, while all the women, fully clothed in their best, were on the door-steps ready, each with her lantern in hand, for their promenade outdoors.

Four strong men seized the rope, pulled back the striking log a whole yard’s distance and then let fly. Back bounded the timber and out gushed a flood of melody that rolled across the city in every direction, and over the hills, filling leagues of space with sweet sound. The children clapped their hands and danced with joy. They knew they would live long, for they had heard the sweet bell’s first music. The old people smiled with joy.

But what was the surprise of the adult folks to hear that the bell could talk. Yes, its sounds actually made a sentence.

“Mu-u-u-ma-ma-ma-la-la-la-la-la-la——” until it ended like a baby’s cry. Yes! There was no mistake about it. This is what it said:

“My mother’s fault. My mother’s fault.”

And to this day the mothers in Seoul, as they clasp their darlings to their bosoms, resolve that it shall be no fault of theirs if these lack love or care. They delight in their little ones more, and lavish on them a tenderer affection because they hear the great bell talk, warning parents to guard what Heaven has committed to their care.

THE KING OF THE SPARROWS

The Korean children are awakened every morning by the twittering of the sparrows. These little birds build their nests among the vines on the roof and along the eaves. The people plant melon, gourd, and mock orange seeds along the sunny sides of their houses in spring time. All through the summer, and until late in autumn, the walls and roofs are covered with the thick green leaves. Here, in these sheltered places, the sparrow mother lays her eggs and the father sparrow finds worms and feeds her, until the hungry birdies open their little mouths for something to eat. After this, both parents are kept busy in raising their brood and teaching them to fly.

The greatest dangers to the birdlings come from cruel snakes that live on the roof and eat up the young sparrows. Sometimes, to help them against their enemy, the parent sparrows call in the aid of larger birds that are not afraid of the reptiles. These peck at the snake until they drive him away. There is always a lively chattering over the victory.

One day, a young sparrow that had hardly learned to fly was almost seized, and might have been devoured by the roof-snake, but was saved by a big, brave bird that flew at the reptile. Although escaped from the snake’s jaws, the sparrow in falling caught its legs in the curtain made of split bamboo, which hung before the verandah of the house, and its limb was put out of joint. There it lay helpless between the splints.

The owner of the house was a kind man, who loved the birds. Taking pity on the poor sparrow, he carefully lifted it up, smoothed its feathers, and quieted the little creature, while its heart kept beating so fast. Then setting its leg in place, he put some moist clay around the broken part, until it should be all right again. Meanwhile, he kept it warm, feeding the birdie until it was strong again. One day he took it in his hand and out-of-doors letting it fly away. Soon it came back and perched on the edge of the roof, twittering thanks to its kind friend. Then it spread its wings to fly to the King of the Sparrows, who lived in the city of Sparrow Capital, where it at once informed His Majesty about the good man who healed and befriended birds when they were in trouble and who had saved the young sparrow’s life.

The King of Sparrow Land and all his wise counselors heard the story with great interest. Then they held a meeting and voted to reward richly so good a friend of all sparrows. So they went into the storehouse where were kept beautiful treasures which human beings love. From the collection they chose what they thought would please most their good friend, such as gold, jade, brocade, cups and saucers, rice, horses to ride on, oxen to bear heavy loads and pretty maids to wait on him, besides silk and cotton clothes of all sorts, with delicious things to eat and drink. By some magic process, they packed these into a seed and then gave it to the sparrow in its bill to carry to the good man. They charged the bird on no account to lose it and be sure to give it to no one but the right person.

So the sparrow flew out of Sparrow Land and down to the house of its kind friend. Carefully laying down the seed, it kept near the paper window-frame and made a great twittering, until the man came out to see what was the matter. Recognizing his old acquaintance, he put out his open hand and the sparrow laid the seed in his palm, meanwhile chattering in a lively way and looking in his face as if to tell him how precious the treasure was.

But the good fellow only took it in to his wife and told her how he got it, laughed over the matter and was going to throw it away, thinking it only sparrow fun.

The wife, who was a wise woman, begged her husband to keep it and on a warm day in spring she planted it. It grew to be a luxuriant vine that clothed all one side of the house with its leaves. When one unusually fine large handsome gourd was nearly ripe, the man thought of plucking it for food; but, taking his wife’s advice, he waited until full autumn had come. By this time the gourd, having absorbed the sunshine all summer, was fully ripe.

Then they took a saw to open it properly, and lo! a store of riches came out of that gourd, such as neither the man nor his wife had ever dreamed of.

First issued something which spread itself out before them. It was a table of costly jade, such as an Emperor ever eats from. Next rolled forth a silver bottle of delicious wine and then the daintiest cups, that set themselves on the jade table. Soon a gold tea-caddy appeared filled with the fragrant leaf. Then rolls of silk, fine muslin, satin brocade, and a store of rich clothes, hats, shoes, girdles, and socks enough to last a lifetime appeared before their eyes. After these were rice and cooked food of all sorts ready for a feast. Looking out into the yard, they saw strong horses and fat oxen waiting to do their master’s bidding. Last of all, some lovely young girls, as fair as the moon, stepped out of the gourd and proceeded to serve the good things of the feast, as if they had been used to waiting on ladies and gentlemen all their lives. Following the feast, they danced, made music and gave no end of entertainment and service to the man and his wife, who were now as happy as king and queen.

In their once humble home, now made over new, with all the store of good things and plenty of loyal servants and strong animals to serve them, the old couple lived without care and traveled where they pleased.

But when a wicked man, that hated all sparrows and had often driven them away from his house, because he thought them too troublesome, heard of his neighbor’s good fortune, he was envious, and wanted to get riches in the same way. So he watched his opportunity and, when a sparrow came near, he threw a stick at the bird and broke its leg. Then he bound up the limb with clay and a bit of rag. He kept the poor sparrow until its leg was well, but dreadfully crooked, and then let it fly away.

In the capital of Sparrow Land, the poor bird told about the bad man’s doings. The Sparrow King at once handed out a seed to be given to the enemy of the sparrows. When the naughty man saw the little bird with the crooked legs, he ran out, got the seed and planted it at once. He could hardly wait for the gourd to ripen. Wonderful to relate, however, the vine was most luxurious, covering the whole side of the house and all the thatched roofs of the three dwellings in one, which made up his home. Finally in the autumn he plucked the fruit. Then, sitting down before the pile, with knife and saw, he began to open them.

But instead of good things, and lovely people, and the treasures that make men rich and happy, such as his kind neighbor had received, there came out, one after another, the twelve curses of Korea.

First leaped forth a party of rope dancers, who put out their hands and demanded money. They threatened to live with him and eat at his table unless they got their pay.

There was no help for it. So the cruel man had to give each dancer a long string of cash before he could get rid of the party.

No sooner had he opened the second gourd than out stepped a line of Buddhist priests, who at once began begging for the temples. He was only too glad to buy off these shaven pates.

The saw had no sooner let the light into another gourd, than forth came a band of hired mourners carrying a corpse. They began weeping, wailing and crying out loud enough to waken the dead. It required another rope of cash to get rid of these pests. By this time the cruel man was beginning to feel very poor.