Chapter IV: Preface (2)

“Just wait a minute,” said the Prince. “You will first restore to life all whom you have thus imprisoned.”

This the Magician did immediately, and then, in a trembling voice, cried, “Give me my parrot.”

And now the whole garden was alive with people. Where there had been rocks and stones now stood Rajahs, Punts, Sirdars, men on horseback, pages and servants.

“Give me my parrot!” cried Punchkin. But the only reply the boy made was to break off one of its wings, and as he did so the Magician’s right arm fell off.

With his left arm outstretched Punchkin cried, “Give me my parrot!” Off came the second wing, and the Magician’s left arm fell to the ground.

On his knees he begged, “Give me my parrot!” Then the Prince pulled off the right leg, and the Magician’s right leg fell off. The parrot’s left leg came off, and at once Punchkin’s left leg fell down.

And now there remained only the Magician’s body and head, but still he cried, “Give me my parrot!”

“Take your parrot, then,” said the boy, and with this he wrung the bird’s neck and threw it at what was left of the Magician. As the parrot’s neck was wrung, Punchkin’s head twisted around, and with a groan, he fell dead.

Then they released Balna from the tower, and all of them returned to their own palace; and it can be imagined with what joy the seven husbands and seven wives and their nephew met again.

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PRINCESS MOONLIGHT

Many years ago there lived a poor old bamboo-cutter, whose great sorrow it was that Heaven had sent no child to cheer his wife and himself in their old age. Every morning he went into the woods in search of the lithe bamboo, which he would split lengthwise or cut into joints, and these he would take home with him, and his wife would turn them into useful or ornamental articles for the household, and sell them.

While working at his task one day in a small grove of the slender trees that he had discovered, he was surprised by a soft, bright light which suddenly flooded the spot in which he was, and he was astonished to see that all this brilliance came from one bamboo.

Marvelling at the beautiful sight, he went to this bamboo stem, in the hollow of which was a tiny, but exceedingly beautiful, little girl, about three inches in height.

“As I have found you here where lies my daily work,” said the old man, “I must look upon you as a child sent from Heaven.” So, very carefully he took the exquisite little creature home to his wife, and both of them were filled with joy because there was now a child, come to them in a most marvelous manner, upon whom they could devote the love of their old age.

And with the child came good fortune, for from this time the old man found gold and precious stones in the notches of the bamboos when he cut them up, so that before long he was rich enough to retire, and he built a fine house in which they all lived very happily.

The bamboo child was no ordinary child, for in a very few months she was quite grown-up, and so beautiful was she that the old people treated her like a princess, and allowed no one to see her or wait upon her but themselves. Her very presence made them happy, and no trace of sorrow could exist where she was. And wherever she might be a beautiful, soft light made the place radiant. And so they called her Princess Moonlight, because they thought that only a daughter of the Moon God could give forth such a soft, bright light.

Of course, the fame of so lovely a Princess spread far and wide, and many were the suitors who sought to win her hand. Not only from that country, but from foreign lands did they come, and the house was constantly surrounded by those who hoped to catch even a glimpse of her through the windows, or as she walked in the garden. But to none of them would the old man grant permission to address his adopted daughter, and at last all but five of them lost hope, and departed to their homes.

These five were very determined knights, whose ardor became the greater as their quest became the more difficult. They stood outside the garden walls in sunshine and rain, eating only such food as was brought to them. They wrote letters and verses to the Princess, telling her of the great love for her which prevented them from returning to their own homes, and even from taking rest and sleep. But no word did they receive from the Princess.

Winter and Spring passed, and Summer came, and still the knights watched and waited. They besought the old man to intercede for them, but he answered that he was not her real father, and that he could not order her to obey him, and also that he would not ask her to do anything she did not wish to do.

At length the five knights returned to their homes, where they tried to forget Princess Moonlight, but this they could not do, so they again came to the bamboo-cutter’s house. This time they asked the old man to tell them if the Princess was determined to never see any men. They begged him to say that their love for her was boundless, and ask for an opportunity to plead their cause.

Now, the old man would gladly have seen his lovely foster-daughter married to one of these suitors, and he felt sorry for them, so he said to the Princess:

“Dear one, you know that I love you quite as much as though you were my real child, and that there is nothing I would not do to make you happy. I cannot live many more years, for I am already old, and it would be a great satisfaction for me to know that you are happily married before the time comes for me to die. Will you not consent to see these five brave knights, one at a time, and make up your mind which of them you will marry?”

The Princess replied that she could not love her own father any more than she loved him, and that her greatest wish was to please him. Still, she did not feel that she could see the five knights, even though assured that they were worthy, but would make one more trial of their love, and if they were successful in this, then would she grant their request. Each of them was to prove his love by bringing to her from a distant country something that she wished to possess.

The bamboo-cutter then went out to the five knights, and told them what the Princess had said, and all of them were satisfied, because the test given to each one would prevent jealousy between them.

So the next day Princess Moonlight sent word to the first knight that she wished him to bring her the stone bowl which had belonged to Buddha in India.

The second knight was to go to the Mountain of Horai, in the Eastern Sea, and to bring her a branch of the wonderful jewel-tree that grew on its topmost height.

The third knight was to search through China for the fire-rat, and to bring her its skin.

The fourth knight was to find the dragon whose right eye was a many-colored stone, and to bring the eye to her.

The fifth knight was to find the swallow which carried a shell in its stomach, and which lived in the Aegean Sea, and to bring her the shell.

These tasks seemed to the old man to be so impossible of accomplishment that he didn’t like to take the messages, but the Princess refused to make any change in them, so he gave them to the knights word for word.

The knights were so disheartened by the tests given them, that they returned to their homes, resolved to forget the beautiful Princess, but each found himself unable to do this, so before long they had all sent word that they were starting out on their respective quests.

Now travel in those days was not easy, but full of danger and difficulty, and the first knight lacked the courage to go to India. So he went to a temple in one of the large cities of Japan, and bribed the head priest to let him take away a stone bowl which was on the altar there. He wrapped this up very carefully, and after waiting for two years, took it to the old bamboo-cutter.

The Princess received the package, and unwrapped it, but saw at once that it was a sham, and not the bowl of Buddha, because it did not shine as the true one would have done. So she returned it to the knight, and refused to see him.

The second knight, with twelve skilled jewelers, went to an island he knew of, and there they designed a gold and silver branch which he was sure would satisfy the Princess. To hold this branch he had his goldsmiths make a beautiful box, and when sufficient time had elapsed he took it to the bamboo-cutter, asking him to tell the Princess that here was the branch of the wonderful jewel-tree that grew on the topmost height of Mount Horai.

Princess Moonlight opened the box and took out the jeweled branch, but she saw at once that it was not what the knight stated it to be. And even as she was looking at it, the old man was summoned to the door by the twelve jewelers who had designed and made the beautiful thing, but who had not been paid for their work. The Princess overheard their conversation with her foster-father, and then directed that they be well paid for what they had done. They then went away, after thanking the Princess for her kindness. But the knight returned to his home, a sadly disappointed man.

The task of the third knight was to get the skin of the fire-rat, whose virtue was that no fire could harm it. Now he had a friend who lived in China, and to him he wrote, offering him a very large sum of money if he would procure that which he desired.

This friend was very willing to accept the knight’s money, but wished to earn it without putting himself to any more trouble than was necessary, so he waited for quite a while, and then sent him the skin of an ordinary rat, also a message which told him of the hardships he had undergone in order to procure it.

This skin the third knight took to the bamboo-cutter, saying that he would wait outside the gate for the Princess’s answer.

The Princess took the package from the old man, and said she would test the skin by putting it in the fire before consenting to see the knight. This she did, and of course the skin just crackled and burned up at once, so she knew it was a fraud.

Thus the third knight failed to see her.

The task of the fourth knight was to find the dragon whose right eye was a many-colored stone, but instead of seeking it himself he called several of his retainers together, and ordered them to search through China and Japan, and not to return unless they brought it with them.

But they, having no idea of obeying what they considered to be an impossible order, merely used this as an excuse for taking a pleasant holiday.

The knight waited a year and no word came to him, so he decided to go himself. Taking five servants with him, he hired a ship, and started for China.

When but a few days out they ran into a fearful storm, and before this abated, the ship was driven on shore.

The knight now blamed the Princess for the disaster, and his love turned to anger. It seemed to him that she had sent him on a mission of great danger, knowing it to be impossible to accomplish the task which she had set him. So he determined to give up all thought of winning the Princess Moonlight.

The fifth knight was no more successful than was the fourth, so he, too, gave up the attempt.

Reports of the wondrous beauty of the Princess Moonlight had reached the Emperor, so he sent a messenger to her, summoning her to the royal palace. But the messenger was no more successful in seeing her than the five knights had been, in spite of the fact that it was the Emperor’s order. The Princess told the bamboo-cutter that she would vanish from the earth rather than go to the palace.

So the messenger at last returned, and when the Emperor heard that she would disappear from sight in preference to obeying his order, he made up his mind to go and see her himself. He therefore sent word to the bamboo-cutter of his intention, forbidding him to say anything about his visit to his foster-daughter.

The next day he set out with his retinue, which he left at a certain spot, and rode on alone. He reached the house and the bamboo-cutter opened the door for him.

The Emperor went straight to the apartment of the Princess, and never had he even imagined such wondrous beauty as he saw when his eyes beheld the Moon Daughter. He at once fell madly in love with her, and begged her to come to the Court, and share his throne.

But she refused, and said that if he attempted to force her to go to the Palace, she would turn into a shadow, and this she did, even as he looked at her. This filled him with fear, and he promised to leave her free if she would resume her former shape, to which she then returned.

Then the Emperor left, but night and day he thought only of the beautiful Princess Moonlight.

Soon after this the bamboo-cutter and his wife noticed that the Princess would sit on her balcony and gaze ardently at the moon, after which she would burst into tears. They asked her the reason for this, and she told them that she did not belong to this world, but came from the moon. And on the fifteenth day of this very month her real parents would send for her and she would have to go. It was the thought of leaving her kind foster-parents, and the home in which she had been so happy, that made her weep. This made the old people and the Princess’s attendants very sad, for they all loved her, and the thought of losing her was a great blow to them.

The news soon reached the Emperor, who at once made plans to keep the Princess Moonlight on earth. When the fifteenth day of the month came, he had a guard of many thousands of warriors stationed all around the house, and also on the roof, for it was his intention to make prisoners of the envoys of the moon, and to prevent the taking away of the Princess, whom the bamboo-cutter and his wife had hidden in an inner room.

Orders were given that no one should sleep, and the strictest watch was to be kept. But the Princess said that all of these measures were useless, for nothing could prevent her people from carrying out their purpose. She told the bamboo-cutter and his wife how very sorry she would be to leave them, and that it was not her wish to leave them. It made her sad to think that she would not be able to make a return for all the love and kindness they had shown her.

The harvest moon arose, and flooded the earth with her beautiful golden light, and still nothing happened. The darkness of night had begun to make way for the gray dawn, and hope came to the anxious watchers; hope that the Princess would not be taken away after all. Then suddenly a dark cloud seemed to leave the moon, and soon the sky was entirely obscured. It kept on its downward course until it reached within a few feet of the roof, and then stopped. Then did the watchers see a brilliant chariot, in which were beings who radiated light, as did the Princess.

From the chariot stepped one who had the look of a king, and who trod the air as easily and as gracefully as though he were on hard ground.

In a voice so clear that it was distinctly heard by every one of the awed watchers, he said:

“Princess Moonlight, many moons ago you committed a grave fault, and for punishment were sent down to earth to live for a time. The bamboo-cutter and his wife have taken good care of you, and to them we have given wealth. The time has come for you to return to your own people, so come at once from this lowly dwelling.”

Then, through the walls of the house was the Princess seen, shining, bright and of wonderful beauty. She kissed the old man and his wife, and spoke words of comfort to them, saying that her heart was full of love for them, and that she was leaving them against her own will. The Emperor also she bade good-by. Then she was transported through the air to the chariot, which mounted, swiftly towards the moon.

And now came the morning light, and no trace of the moon-chariot was left to those who gazed upwards with tearful eyes, and with a full heart the Emperor ordered his warriors to return.

Sorrowful as were the old bamboo-cutter and his wife, yet were they full of gratitude for having known the love of a daughter, who, while not with them in the body, would always dwell with them in spirit.

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THE FOX AND THE CRAFTY CRAB

A fox was one day walking along the bank of a river when he met a Crab. “Good morning, Mr. Crab,” said he. “Don’t you ever get tired of creeping over the ground?”

“No,” replied the Crab, “because it is as natural for me to crawl as it is for you to run; and I can cover the ground very quickly, too, when it is necessary.”

The Fox laughed at him, and said, sneeringly: “I think you are very slow and very stupid. I have only four legs, while you have twice as many, and yet I can run ten times as fast and as far as you can.”

Then the Crab said: “But see how much bigger you are; if you were as small as I am, you would probably not travel any more quickly than I do. Perhaps I am very slow and very stupid, but if you will allow me to hang a weight on that fine tail of yours, to hold it down, I challenge you to as long a race as you care to run.”

The Fox thought he might just as well teach the stupid Crab a lesson, so, in a voice filled with contempt, he said: “When you ask me to race with you, even with any handicap you like, you show how little understanding you have. You have many legs and no sense, while I have four legs and am known to be the wisest inhabitant of the forest. Even human beings refer to me as the slyest of the sly.”

But again the Crab offered to race with him if he would but allow him to hang a weight on his tail, so that it would stay down. The Fox laughed at him, saying that he was foolish to think that he could win a race between them under any conditions; but as the Crab repeated the offer, the Fox at last consented.

So the Crab said: “When I have secured it to your tail, I will say ‘Ready!’ and that will be the signal to start, then go as fast as you like.”

With this the Crab went behind the Fox, and firmly gripped his tail with his pincers. Then he called out, “Ready!”

The Fox began to run; he ran until he was tired, and then stopped to rest. To his surprise he heard the Crab say: “Well, Mr. Fox, with all your boasting, you haven’t beaten me yet!”

“This is very strange,” said the Fox to himself, “but if I am tired, I know the Crab must be a great deal more so.” He started off again, and ran until he was almost out of breath. Feeling sure that the Crab was now far behind, he lay down on the ground, panting.

If he had been surprised to hear the Crab’s voice when he stopped before, how much more so was he now, when the Crab said: “Ha, ha! Mr. Braggart, you seem to be winded. Come, let us go on with the race.” He got upon his feet, and the Crab, who had released his grip from the Fox’s tail, crawled up in front of him, looking just as fresh as when they began the race.

The Fox looked at him, and then, without a word, slunk away, his head bowed in shame.

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INGRATITUDE

Once upon a time a certain king had as his Chief Counsellor a man who was proud and oppressive to those under him.

Not far from the royal palace, in which this man dwelt, was a forest well stocked with game. By his order various pits were dug there, and covered with leaves, for the purpose of catching wild beasts.

One day, while riding in the forest, he was so overcome by the thought of his own greatness, that he exclaimed aloud: “There is no man in all this empire more powerful than I am.”

Scarcely had the braggart spoken than he fell into one of the pitfalls that he had ordered to be made and he immediately disappeared from view.

When his eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the hole, he was horrified to find that he had as fellow prisoners a lion, a monkey, and a serpent. He was stricken with terror, and cried out at the top of his voice.

Not far from the pit was lying asleep a poor man called Guido, who had come with his ass to the forest to gather firewood, by the sale of which he made a poor living. The noise made by the great man awakened him, and he hastened to give what aid he could to whoever might be in trouble.

The cries guided him to the mouth of the pit and there he was promised a great sum of money by the Prime Minister if he would rescue him from his perilous position.

Guido told him that his living depended upon the collecting of faggots, and if he neglected this for a single day, he would be thrown into great difficulties. The captive again promised him a large reward, so Guido went back to the city, and returned with a long cord, which he let down into the pit, telling the great man to bind it around his waist, and he would then pull him out.

But before he could do this, the lion leaped forward, and seizing upon the cord, was drawn up in his stead, and showing signs of the greatest pleasure, ran off into the wood.

Guido again let down the rope, and this time the monkey, who had noted the lion’s success, jumped over the man’s head and, shaking the cord, was in like manner set at liberty, and hastened to his own haunts.

A third time Guido lowered the rope, and this time the serpent, twining around it, was drawn up, and showing signs of gratitude to the peasant, escaped.

“Oh, my good friend,” exclaimed the Counsellor, “the beasts are gone, now draw me up quickly, I beseech you.” This Guido did, and afterwards succeeded in pulling up his horse, which had fallen into the pit with him. Then without another word, the man who had been saved mounted his horse, and rode back to the palace.

When Guido returned to his home his wife saw that he had come without wood, and inquired the cause. He told her all that had happened, and the great reward he was to receive, and then his wife’s countenance brightened.

Early the next morning Guido went to the palace, but to his surprise the Prime Minister not only denied all knowledge of him, but had him beaten for his presumption, and this so severely that the porter who carried out his orders left him half dead.

As soon as Guido’s wife heard of this she saddled their ass, and going to the palace, carefully placed her husband upon its back, and took him home, where he lay sick for a long time. This illness took all of their savings, but as soon as he was able he returned to his usual occupation in the forest.

One day, while thus employed, he saw afar off ten asses laden with packs, and a lion following close on them. They were coming towards him, and when close enough Guido noticed that the beast was the same which he had freed from the pit.

The lion signified with his foot that Guido should take the loaded asses, and go home. This he did, and the lion followed. Having reached his own door, the noble beast fawned upon him, and wagging his tail as if in triumph, ran back into the woods.

Guido was very honest, and even though he was poor he made no attempt to open the packages until he had caused notice to be given throughout the city that if any asses had been lost, the owners should come to him.

He waited for some time, but as no one came to demand them be undid the packs, and to his great joy found them to be full of money.

The next time Guido went to the forest he forgot to take the axe with which to chop the wood, but there appeared before him the monkey he had liberated, and the grateful animal, with his teeth and nails, cut the wood for him.

The following day he went to collect firewood as usual, and as the head of his axe had become loose, he sat down to tighten it. While thus engaged he saw the serpent, whose escape he had aided, gliding towards him, carrying in its mouth a stone of three colors, white, black, and red. It opened its mouth, dropped the stone into Guido’s lap, and departed.

Guido took the stone to a well-known dealer in jewels, who at once offered him a considerable sum of money for it, but this he refused. He kept the stone and through its magic qualities gained wealth and military command.

In time the fame of this wonderful stone reached the Emperor, who desired to see it. Guido accordingly took it to the palace, and his Majesty was so struck by its beauty that he wished to purchase it.

Guido had no desire to part with the stone, and the Emperor, noticing his unwillingness to sell it, threatened him with banishment from the kingdom if he refused.

Then Guido said: “My lord, I will sell the stone; but let me say one thing—if the price be not given, it shall be returned to me.” He then named a price so high that he hoped the Emperor would not give it. But the ruler was determined to have it at any cost, and so the stone changed hands.

Full of admiration, the Emperor exclaimed: “Tell me where you procured this beautiful stone.”

Then Guido narrated from the beginning the Prime Minister’s accident and later ingratitude. He told how severely he had been injured by his order, and the benefits he had received from the lion, the monkey, and the serpent.

The Emperor was greatly touched by the story, and sending for his Chief Counsellor, asked him if what Guido said was true.

The Prime Minister was unable to reply, and the Emperor said: “You wretched monster of ingratitude! Guido saved you from great danger, and in return you nearly destroyed him. Even the beasts of the forest rendered him good for the help he gave them, but you returned only evil for good. For this I will strip you of all your wealth and dignities, and bestow them upon your benefactor, and you shall be cast into prison.”

The Prime Minister was so hated by the people for his cruelty and oppression that there was general rejoicing in the land at this judgment of the Emperor.

* * * * *

This story was used by King Richard the Lion Hearted of England in reproving such nobles and princes as refused to engage in the Crusades, thus showing their ingratitude to God.

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THE PAPER BAG

There were once two brothers, the elder of whom, named Musai, was honest and kind, but poor. He was just the opposite of his younger brother, called Chô, who was cruel, stingy, dishonest and rich.

Musai was in need of seed-rice and silkworms’ eggs. The past season had been an unfortunate one for him, and it was necessary for him to have these. Knowing that his brother had an abundance of good rice-seed and splendid eggs, he begged him to lend him some.

Now, Chô hated to lend anyone anything, but he didn’t see how he could very well refuse his brother’s request, so he picked out some musty rice-seed and dead eggs, and gave them to him, feeling sure that they were worthless.

Musai thanked him for his kindness, and took them home. He put plenty of mulberry leaves with the eggs, so that the silkworms should have plenty of food when they should arrive. And strange to say the worms came, and throve splendidly, much to Chô’s disappointment, because he was too mean to wish good-fortune to visit anyone but himself.

He took it as a personal insult that the dead eggs he had let his brother have should hatch so well, so one day, when Musai was out, he went to his home, and cut every silkworm in two.

When Musai returned, he was filled with dismay on seeing all of his silkworms killed, but he didn’t think of suspecting his own brother. He had placed a good supply of mulberry leaves for them only the day before, and each piece of worm came to life, and throve.

Now he had twice as many silkworms as before, and they spun double the amount of silk that he had expected; so his brother Chô had really done him a good turn when he tried to ruin him.

Musai began to prosper, much to the disgust of Chô, who proceeded to cut all of his own silkworms in half, thinking that of course the same good fortune would be his. But instead of coming to life again the worms died, which meant the loss of much money for him. This made him very jealous of his brother.

The musty rice-seed which he had given his brother, and which Musai had planted, also turned out well, for it flourished better than any of his own had done. This only added to his jealousy.

The time to cut and harvest the rice approached, when clouds of birds came and devoured it. Musai hastened to drive them away, and this he did again and again, but each time they returned.

Chasing them away was very tiring work, so he finally pursued them to a distant field, and then they disappeared. Here he lay down to rest, and soon fell asleep.

There came to him a dream in which he was surrounded by a band of merry children. They danced and sang and played games.

In the last of these the eldest of the children lifted up a stone which lay near Musai’s head and from beneath it drew a paper bag. With this in his hand he went to the center of the ring, and asked each child in turn, “What would you like to have out of the bag?”

One child answered, “A kite.” The bag was shaken, and out came a beautiful kite, string, tail and all. The next one said she would like a doll. The bag was again shaken and there was one, beautifully dressed, ready for her to hold in her arms.

Each child in turn was asked what he or she desired, and the bag granted every wish. At last they went home, but before leaving the field the boy who had taken the magic bag from beneath the stone carefully replaced it.

Soon Musai awoke, and so clear was the dream to him that he turned around to look for the stone, and there it was, close by his head. “How very strange,” he thought. Then, without really expecting to find anything, he raised the stone, and underneath it was the paper bag.

Holding this carefully in his hand, he returned to his home, and there he did as he had seen the children do in his dream. He called out “Gold,” or “Silver,” or whatever he thought of, shook the bag, and out came that which he had named.

Musai now became rich and prosperous. He told his brother how this good fortune had come to him in a dream, and this made Chô more jealous of him than before.

Chô made up his mind to get another such paper bag for himself, so he took some of Musai’s rice-seed, planted it, and waited impatiently for it to grow.

In due time it ripened, and now he waited for the birds to come and eat the rice. To his delight they came, and he lost no time in driving them away, pursuing them to the field where Musai had slept and dreamed.

He lay down, intending to follow his brother’s example, but found that he could not go to sleep, try as hard as he might. He had not been there long before a group of children came to the field and began to play and enjoy themselves. After a while they all sat down in a ring, and Chô, who pretended to be asleep, watched carefully out of one half-opened eye to see what they would do next.

He saw the eldest one come to the stone close to his head and lift it up, but there was no paper bag beneath it.

The boy was surprised, and said: “I believe this lazy old farmer has taken our bag,” and then he seized Chô’s nose, and gave it a good pull.

Chô then jumped up, and the boy repeated what he had said. The children wouldn’t believe him when he declared that he had touched neither the stone nor the bag, and they shouted and jeered at him.

But this was not the hardest thing that happened to him; for his nose, which the boy had pulled, began to grow. Larger and larger it became, until at last it reached the ground.

In his anger he struck right and left at the children, and ran from the field, holding his nose from the ground as well as he could.

He went to his brother’s house and told him what had occurred. Then a change came over him, and he felt ashamed of himself. He remembered how jealous he had been of Musai, and how he had tried to ruin him by killing his silkworms. He was humble, confessed everything, and asked his brother to forgive him.

Musai spoke kindly to him, and said that this punishment had come to him on account of his envy and jealousy, which bring happiness to no one.

Then he took the paper bag, and gently rubbed Chô’s nose with it. Gradually this became shorter and shorter, until at last it resumed its former shape.

This was a lesson that Chô was not allowed to forget, because whenever after this he attempted to do anything mean or dishonest, his nose would become sore, and in his terror lest it should grow again, he trained himself to live as a kindly, well-disposed man should do.

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ROSAMOND, THE SWIFT OF FOOT

A certain king had an only daughter, who, while yet a child, was famed for her marvellous beauty and dignity of bearing. Her name was Rosamond, and in addition to her charm of face and figure, she excelled all others at athletic games. When only ten years of age so swift a runner was she that her equal at this sport could not be found.

When she became of marriageable age her father issued a proclamation that whoever could surpass her in speed should marry her, and become heir to the throne; but if he were to fail in the race, his life would be forfeit.

The penalty for lack of speed in the race was heavy, but many were those who made the attempt, hoping that they might succeed, only to perish as a result.

Now there was a poor man called Abibas, a wanderer with no place he could call home, who heard of the king’s proclamation, and he said to himself: “I am poor and have but little to lose; if I may overcome this princess and marry her I shall not only enrich myself, but will be able to assist my relatives and what friends I have.” So he resolved to accept the challenge.

But this man was wiser than the others, for he took the three following precautions: First, he framed a curious garland of roses, of which he discovered the princess was very fond. Then he procured a piece of the finest silk, knowing that this would attract the attention of most young women. And, lastly, he secured a silken bag in which he placed a gilded ball on which was written: “Whosoever plays with me shall never tire of play.” With these three things hidden within his blouse he went to the palace gate and declared his desire to enter the race for the hand of the princess.

It happened that the maiden herself was standing at a window close by and heard Abibas express his wish to run against her. Seeing that he was poor, with clothes threadbare and torn, she despised him, and said, “What poor wretch is this with whom I have to contend?” However, the king had to stand by the words of his proclamation, so preparations for the race were made.

Abibas soon saw that unless he should be able to take the attention of the princess away from the race he would be defeated. She was in the lead, so he took the garland of roses, which he had hidden, and skillfully threw it in front of her.

As he had foreseen, the maiden stopped to pick it up and put it on her head. The roses were indeed beautiful and gave forth a delightful perfume. She was charmed by their fragrance, and paused to admire them.

Abibas took advantage of this, and increasing his speed, rapidly passed her. This caused her to cry out in anger: “Never shall the daughter of a king be wed to such a clown as you.” She threw the garland from her and rushed onward like a whirlwind.

It was not long before she caught up with him, and extending her hand, she struck him upon the shoulder, saying: “Stop, foolish one, do you hope to marry a princess?”

As she was on the point of passing him Abibas drew forth the piece of silk, and threw it at her feet.

Rosamond was attracted by the beautiful color and texture of the material, and could not resist the temptation to stop and pick it up. Then she tied it round her waist, and by this time her adversary was considerably in advance of her.

She saw the consequence of her foolishness, and throwing away the piece of silk, flew on at such a pace that she soon overtook Abibas, whom she struck upon the arm, at the same time saying, “Fool, you shall _not_ marry me.”

They were not far from the goal, and in a few seconds the race would be over. The princess had almost won when Abibas threw at her feet the bag containing the gilded ball.

Rosamond could not help stopping to pick it up, and it was impossible for her not to open the bag to see what was inside. This she did, and then she read the inscription, “Who plays with me shall never tire of playing.”

The wise Abibas came first to the goal, and by the terms of the king’s proclamation he married the princess.

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THE JACKAL, DEER, AND CROW

In a forest called Champak-Grove[1] lived two friends, a Deer and a Crow. The Deer was roaming among the trees one day, when he was observed by a Jackal.

[Footnote 1: The Champak is a bushy tree bearing a profusion of blossoms which resemble stars. It gives forth a delightful perfume.]

“Ho! Ho!” said the Jackal to himself, “If I can only win the confidence of this Deer, it may be that he will make a very fine meal for me.” So he approached the Deer, and wished him a very good morning.

“Who are you?” said the Deer.

“I’m Small-wit, the Jackal,” replied the other. “I live here all alone in the wood, and it is very lonely without anyone to talk to. It makes me very happy to know you, and I hope you will look upon me as your friend.”

“Very well,” said the Deer, so off they went together.

It was beginning to grow dark when the Crow, whose name was Sharp-sense, saw the two coming home together. He asked the Deer who his companion was.

“It is a Jackal who wishes to know us,” answered the Deer.

“You must be careful with whom you become friendly,” said Sharp-sense. “You know——

‘To folks by no one known house-room deny:—
The Vulture housed the Cat, and thence did die.’”

“How was that?” asked the Deer and the Jackal.

“I will tell you,” replied the Crow.

“On the banks of the River Ganges is a cliff called Vulture-Crag, upon which was a large fig-tree. It was hollow, and inside it dwelt an old Vulture who had lost both eyes and talons, and who was kept alive with food given him by the friendly birds that roosted in the tree.

“One day, when the parent birds were away, a Cat came, thinking to make a meal of the young birds, of which there were several. The nestlings were so much afraid of the Cat that they made noise enough to arouse the Vulture.

“‘Who is there?’ croaked he.

“The Cat, seeing the Vulture, thought his end was surely come. He knew he couldn’t get away, so had to use his wits. Drawing nearer, he said:

“‘Honored sir, I wish you a very good morning.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked the Vulture.

“‘I am a Cat.’

“‘Go away at once, Cat, or I will kill you,’ said the Vulture.

“The Cat then begged the Vulture to listen to what he had to say, and afterward decide whether he should live or die.

“To this the Vulture consented, and so the Cat began:

“‘I live near the River Ganges, eating no flesh and doing many things by way of penance. The birds that often visit me have said so much in your praise that I have come here, hoping to learn wisdom from you. It is not possible that you, who must know the law of strangers, could think of slaying me. Without doubt you know what the book says about the householder:—

Bar not thy door to the stranger, be he friend or be he foe,
For the tree will shade the woodman while his axe doth lay it low.

“Also:—

Greeting fair, and room to rest in; fire, and water from the well—
Honor him for thine own honor—better is he than the best.

“Then there is the rebuke:—

Pity them that ask thy pity; who art thou to stint thy hoard,
When the beauteous moon shines equal on the lowly and the lord!

“To all of which the Vulture said: ‘Your words have much weight, but cats are very fond of meat, and as there are young birds here I told you to go.’

“Then the Cat bowed his head to the ground, showing his humility. ‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I have overcome temptation, practised penance, and know the Scriptures. Always do I keep away from injuring others, for——

He who does and thinks no wrong—
He who suffers, being strong—
He whose harmlessness men know—
Unto Heaven such doth go.’

“At length he won the old Vulture’s confidence, and went with him into the hollow tree and lived there. And day after day he stole some of the nestlings, and devoured them.

“The parent birds missed their young ones and sought everywhere for them, and the Cat soon saw that he would have to leave, so he slipped away from the hollow, and escaped.

“A little later the birds found the bones of the nestlings in the dwelling-place of the Vulture, and of course concluded that it was he whom they had helped who had so basely rewarded them. So they called a meeting of all the birds of the forest, told them what had happened, and the poor old Vulture was sentenced to death, and accordingly was executed.”

“Now you have my story,” said Sharp-sense, the Crow, “and this is why I warn you not to become friendly with people about whom you know nothing.”

Then said the Jackal, “When you first met the Deer neither of you knew anything about the other; how is it, then, that you are such friends now? I know I am only Small-wit, the Jackal, but the Deer is my friend, and I hope you will be also.”

“Don’t let us talk so much,” said the Deer, “let us all be friends and live happily together.”

“All right,” said Sharp-sense, “just as you say.”

In the morning each of them started early for his own feeding-ground, returning in the evening, as was their custom. One day the Jackal said to the Deer, “Come with me, and I will show you where there is a field full of sweet young wheat.”

The Deer went with him, and he certainly enjoyed the feast which he found ready. But the owner of the field saw him, set a snare, and the next day the Deer was caught in it.

Very soon Small-wit (who had been watching all the time) came along, and said to himself, “Oho! my scheme worked well. The Deer will furnish me with some very fine meals.”

Just then the Deer saw him and called out, “Friend, please gnaw the strings and set me free.”

But Small-wit only walked around the snare, examining it carefully. “It certainly will hold,” said he to himself.

To the Deer he said, “These strings are very strong, and this is a fast day for me, so I cannot bite them. To-morrow I will do what I can for you.” With this he went away.

Very soon the Crow, who had been looking for his friend, came along, and seeing his sorry plight, asked him how this all happened.

The Deer replied that this came through disregarding the advice of a friend.

“Where is that rascally Jackal?” asked the Crow.

“He is waiting somewhere to taste my flesh,” answered the Deer.

With a deep sigh the Crow exclaimed, “You smooth-tongued, traitor Jackal, what an ill deed you have done!”

The Crow stayed through the night with his poor friend, trying to think of some way to free him, and at last he hit upon a plan which proved to be successful.

Early in the morning the master of the field, carrying a club in his hand, came to see if the snare had caught the Deer. Sharp-sense, as soon as he saw him approaching, said to his friend, “Look as though you were dead; stiffen out your legs and lie very still. I will make believe that I am pecking your eyes out. When I utter a loud croak you jump up quickly and run away as fast as you can.”

The Deer did as he was told, and when the farmer reached the snare, with the Deer in it quite dead, as he thought, he pulled up the net, and so released the captive. Then the Crow uttered a loud croak; up sprang the Deer and made off.

The husbandman was in a great rage at thus being outwitted, and threw his club at the fleeing Deer with all his might. But instead of hitting the Deer, it struck Small-wit, the Jackal, who was hiding close by, and killed him.

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PIGEON-KING AND MOUSE-KING

A fowler, seeking to snare some birds, set a trap with which he might catch them. He fixed a net, scattered grains of rice about, and then hid himself in a place where he could watch.

Very soon “Speckle-neck,” King of the Pigeons, accompanied by his followers, flew that way. Of course he saw the rice-grains, and thought it very unusual that they should be lying on the ground in so lonely a spot as this was. He did not like the look of it, and so decided to take counsel with his followers before permitting them to eat the rice.

They were all hungry, and the younger ones did not wish to wait while the older and wiser pigeons took counsel together, but this they had to do. At length one of them laughed at the others, and taunted them with being afraid without any reason, and dared them to at once eat the rice which they all wanted. At this they all settled on the ground, and soon were caught in the net.

They then began to abuse the pigeon who had dared them, saying that it was through him they were all caught. But King Speckle-neck said they were all to blame, and the thing to do now was to find some way of escape, and not to waste precious time by quarreling. He thought carefully for a few moments, and then said.

“Many small things added together make a large one. Let us all rise under the net at the same instant and between us we will fly off with it.”

They decided to try this means of escape, and it happened just as the King said. They rose together, and flew away with the net. The fowler, who had hidden himself at some distance, saw the pigeons flying away with his net and hastened to stop them, but was too late, and soon they were out of sight.

The pigeons, seeing that they were safely away from the fowler, asked the King what they should do next.

Speckle-neck said, “A friend of mine named ‘Golden-skin,’ King of the Mice, lives near by. We will go to him, and he will cut these bonds.” They accordingly directed their flight to the hole of Golden-skin.

They soon arrived at the home of the Mouse-king, and Speckle-neck called to his friend to come out. Golden-skin came to the entrance, and told his friend how pleased he was to see him. “But what does this mean?” he exclaimed, looking at the pigeons all tangled up in the net.

Speckle-neck told him what had happened to them, and without a word the Mouse-king began to gnaw at the strings which held his friend. But the worthy Pigeon-king bade him to release the others first, and leave him until the last.

To this Golden-skin objected, but King Speckle-neck said that he could not bear to see those who depended upon him in such distress. Such heroism made the Mouse-king’s fur bristle up for pure pleasure.

“Nobly spoken!” said he. “Such tenderness for those who are dependent upon you makes me proud to be your friend.” With this, he set himself to the great task of cutting all their bonds, and in time all were free.

The Mouse-king then entertained them as hospitably as he could. The Pigeon-king and his followers thanked him for his great kindness, and Golden-skin embraced them all, after which he returned to his hole and the pigeons departed.

You may be sure that the young pigeons decided that the older ones were wiser in counsel than they, and to be more careful when “daring” their fellows.

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HE WISHED TO LIVE FOREVER

A long time ago there lived in Japan a man named Opulo who was quite rich. There was really nothing about which he need worry, but one day the thought came to him that he might fall sick and die. Probably the only reason for this was because he didn’t have to earn his living, and so had very little to occupy his time.

“It seems to me,” said he to himself, “that a man ought to live a much longer life than he does. I am very comfortable here, with all I want to eat and drink, and plenty of money to spend, so why should I not enjoy life for hundreds of years without sickness or worry?”