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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.