wiser in counsel than they, and to be more careful when “daring” their
fellows.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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?”
He had heard of men in times gone by who had lived as long as that, and
recalled the story of a certain Princess who had reached the age of five
hundred years. Then he thought of that powerful Chinese King, Shiko, who
built the great wall of China and many wonderful palaces, but who, in
spite of his greatness and the luxury in which he lived, was never happy
because he knew that some time he must die and give it all up.
This great ruler had heard that in a country called Horazai, far away
across the seas, there lived certain hermits who possessed the secret of
the “Draught of Life,” and that whoever should drink of this wonderful
elixir would never die. So he ordered Jofuku, a courtier in whom he
placed great confidence, to set out for the land of Horazai, and to
bring back with him a phial of this magic fluid.
The Emperor had his finest junk made ready for a long voyage, and loaded
it with rich gifts for the hermits. The courtier sailed away, but was
never heard of again. Mount Fuji was supposed to be Horazai, and ever
since then Jofuku has been worshipped as their god.
The story of the Emperor Shiko made such an impression on Opulo that he
made up his mind to seek the hermits who held the secret of this
marvelous water of life, and if possible to become one of them; so he
started out on his quest.
He traveled, and traveled, climbing to the peaks of the highest
mountains, and wandering through unknown regions, but meeting with no
success.
At last it seemed to him that he was wasting time, so he decided to go
straight to the shrine of Jofuku, to whom he would pray for assistance
in his search.
He went to the temple devoted to this deity, and every day for a month
he knelt there, and made his entreaty.
At the end of this time, while kneeling before the shrine, he was
suddenly enveloped in a cloud, and when this cleared away he saw Jofuku
himself standing before him.
Opulo bowed his head to the ground, and Jofuku said to him, “Your
request is selfish and therefore hard to grant. You imagine that you
would like to become a hermit such as those you seek, and so partake of
the Elixir of Life. A hermit’s life is a hard one and not suited to an
idle man who is used to enjoy every possible comfort. To be a hermit one
must obey strict rules; he must eat only fruit and berries, and cut
himself off from the ways of the world, so that he may become pure and
free from unworthy desire.
“You, Opulo, have always been a lazy man, and have been too fond of good
living. Do you think you could go barefoot and wear only one thin dress
during the cold of winter? No, the life of a hermit is not for you!
“But there is something else I will do for you, and that is to send you
to the Island of Continual Life, where death is unknown.”
Then Jofuku gave Opulo a small bird made of paper, and told him to sit
upon it.
This the wondering Opulo did, and the bird began to grow. Soon it was
large enough for him to ride on comfortably. With wings outspread it
rose high up in the air, and away it flew.
The flight through the air was swift; on and on they went for hundreds
and hundreds of miles without a stop, until at last they came to an
island, and there the bird alighted.
Opulo stepped to the ground and the bird grew smaller and smaller. At
last it became the same size as when Jofuku gave it to him, so he folded
it up and put it in his pocket.
He walked on until he came to a town, where he found a place to lodge.
Everything, of course, was strange to him; the streets and buildings
were different from what he had been used to, and all the people looked
prosperous.
Opulo told the owner of the house in which he obtained lodgings that he
intended to live there permanently, so the worthy man kindly promised to
help him all he could. He found a suitable house for him, and servants
to attend to his comfort, so Opulo took up his residence in the land of
Continual Life.
It was a strange country indeed in which he now lived. No one ever died
there, nor even became sick, so doctors were unknown. But the people
were not happy and contented; they had heard of a place called Paradise,
but it was only a legend to them. They knew that one could not reach
this wonderful land without dying, and death was something they longed
for, but which never came to them.
Ordinary people have a dread of death, but these were very different,
for they looked upon it as something very much to be desired. How they
wished it could come to them, so that they could enter the happy land of
Paradise!
To Opulo everything seemed to be upside down. He had come here hoping to
live forever, and found the inhabitants wishing more than anything else
that they could die. They had tried everything they could think of to
bring this about, but without success. No one could even make himself
ill, try as hard as he might; he couldn’t even raise a corn on his toe.
But Opulo was happy, for he had found what he sought. He assured himself
that he would never tire of living, and was the only contented man on
the island.
He changed from his former mode of living, and instead of doing nothing,
he set himself up in business. And now that he had something to do, time
passed very quickly.
Strange to say, after having lived there for two hundred years life
began to be somewhat dull and monotonous. He wanted a change, for it was
the same thing day after day, and year after year. He began to think
that perhaps the other people were not so foolish when they wanted to
die!
It would be fine if he could see his own country again; things would
never be any different where he was now, and how wearisome it was
getting to be!
Now he wanted to die, but couldn’t, and it was no use trying to.
One day he happened to think that his prayers to Jofuku had resulted in
bringing him to this country. He would pray to Jofuku to take him away
from it. Why did he not think of this before?
So he prayed, and to his surprise the paper bird came into his hand. It
grew and grew as it had done before in the temple of Jofuku, and soon it
was large enough for him to mount. It spread its wings, and they went
flying through the air.
On and on they flew, stopping neither for rest nor food, and at length
they reached the Japan Sea. Then he suddenly thought of the valuable
business he had left behind. Why hadn’t he sold it, and taken the
proceeds with him?
As soon as this thought came to him a storm came on. It rained hard, and
of course the paper bird became wet, and being paper, it crumpled up and
fell into the sea.
Now he was in danger of being drowned, and he was afraid. Not long ago
he would have welcomed death. He called aloud to Jofuku to save him, but
there was no reply.
He swam and swam, doing his best to keep from sinking. Then right in
front of him he saw a huge fish, its mouth wide open, ready to devour
him.
In his fright he screamed so loudly for Jofuku to save him that he
awakened himself. For, behold, he had fallen asleep during his long
prayers before the shrine, and all of this had come to him in a dream.
Then he heard a voice, and before him stood a messenger, who said:
“As you have prayed, so has Jofuku permitted you in a dream to see the
land of Continual Life. You were not contented there and wished to
return to your own country that you might die. And even your desire for
death was not real, for when the fish was there to swallow you, you
called on Jofuku to save you. There is only one thing for you to do;
return to your home and live an industrious life, be helpful to yourself
and to others, and thus will you be happy and live to a good old age.
And be sure that any selfish desire you may have, even if it be granted,
will never bring you happiness.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE CRANE AND THE CRAB
There was a small lake in Malwa called Lily-Water, and on its bank one
day stood a Crane who seemed to be lost in thought.
It was the dry season and the water was low in the pond, in which were a
good many fish. Now the Crane was very fond of fish, and he was trying
to figure out a plan whereby he could satisfy his appetite.
At last he went to the water’s edge, and there he sat down. He assumed a
most dejected look, and appeared to be so miserable that a Crab, who had
been watching him, asked him why he was so down-hearted.
“It is because I am thinking of all who live in this pond that I am so
sad,” said the Crane.
“Why should that be the reason?” asked the Crab.
“I will tell you,” said the Crane. “This morning I heard the fishermen
who live near here say that they meant to catch every fish that swims in
this water. Now I love a dish of fish myself, and the few that I should
take would make but little difference among so many. And although if the
fish in this pond are all captured there would be none left for me to
subsist upon, it breaks my heart to think of the fate that is in store
for them. Therefore am I so sad.”
Now some of the fishes overheard what the Crane said to the Crab, and
they at once called a general meeting. One of them said: “In this case
the Crane’s interests are the same as ours, because, while we furnish
the food which keeps him alive there are many of us left, but when the
fishermen capture us we shall die. Let us therefore confer with the
Crane.”
This they decided to do, and so they went to him in a body.
“Good Crane,” they said, “what course is there for safety?”
“The only thing to do is to go elsewhere,” said the Crane. “This can
easily be done, for if you wish I will carry you one by one to another
pool.”
This the trembling fishes begged him to do, that is, all but one of
them, who said:
“It is most unusual that a crane should take any thought for fishes, and
I think that you mean to eat us, one by one.”
“That I do not,” said the Crane. “If you do not believe what I say, send
one of your number with me, and he shall come back and tell you that I
am to be trusted.”
They thought this was all right, and so selected their sharpest fish,
one whom they considered could not be outwitted, and handed him over to
the Crane.
The Crane took him in his bill and let him go in the other pool, and he
showed the fish all over it. Then he carried him back to the others who
were entirely satisfied, and said they were ready to go with him.
Then the Crane took them, one after another, and having eaten them,
returned to report that he had safely deposited each in the pond.
At last only the Crab was left, and he asked to be taken, too. Now the
Crane coveted the tender flesh of the Crab, and perhaps the latter saw a
greedy look in his eyes. At any rate, when the Crane went to take hold
of him with his beak, he said: “You cannot carry me like that, for I
should certainly fall.”
The Crane told him not to fear, that he would be perfectly safe. But the
Crab thought to himself: “If he once got hold of a fish, I doubt very
much if he would really let it go into the pond. He shall carry me, but
in such a way that I shall be safe.” So he said:
“Friend Crane, you cannot hold me tight enough in your bill, so I will
hold on to you with my claws, and you can carry me that way.”
The Crane thought that would be all right, and so the other held on to
his neck with his claws, and off they went.
They soon reached the spot where the Crane had eaten the fish, and the
Crab saw that it was covered with fishbones.
“This is not the pond,” said the Crab; “please take me to it at once.”
“You will never see another pond,” replied the Crane, who thought that
it would be the easiest thing in the world to shake the Crab from his
neck. “I am now going to eat you, just as I have eaten every one of the
fish, whose bones you can see if you look.”
“Do you think I am as stupid as those fish?” asked the Crab. Then he
gave the Crane’s neck such a squeeze with his claws that the Crane
almost died.
“That is just to remind you of what will happen if you don’t take me to
the pond at once,” said the Crab.
The Crane now trembled with fear, and flew at once to the edge of the
pond, and there, before entering the water the Crab tightened his grip
so that the Crane’s neck was cut clear through.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE LION AND THE HARE
In a large forest there lived a Lion who was very fierce. Such terror
did he inspire among the other animals of the jungle, and so many of
them did he kill for his daily food, that they held a public meeting to
see what could be done about it.
After much parleying they drew up a respectful petition to the Lion in
these words:
“Your Majesty, why do you thus create havoc among us? If it please you,
we will ourselves furnish you daily with a beast for your Majesty’s
meal.”
This petition they duly presented to the Lion, who said: “If this
arrangement is more agreeable to you, I will be satisfied.” So, from
that time a beast was allotted to him each day, they casting lots among
themselves to see who should be selected.
Thus it became the turn of a wily old Hare to supply the royal table,
and as he walked slowly along to keep his appointment he said to
himself, “If I have to die I will take my time, and will go to my death
as leisurely as possible.”
Now that day the Lion was very hungry, and he became very angry at being
kept waiting for his meal, so when he saw the Hare walking along as
though he had all day to spare he roared at him, “How dare you so delay
your coming?”
“Sire,” replied the Hare, “It is not my fault that I am late. On the way
here I was detained by another lion, who made me promise to return to
him when I shall have told your Majesty that he awaits you.”
Of course, such insolence on the part of another lion made this one more
angry than before, as the old Hare had intended it should, and he
exclaimed in a rage, “Show me instantly where this impertinent villain
of a lion lives.”
Then the Hare led the way until he came to a deep well, when he stopped
and said, “Now, my Lord, come here and see him.”
So the Lion approached, and saw his own reflection in the water.
Thinking that he was looking at the other lion, he flung himself
furiously upon his own image, and so was drowned. You may be sure the
old Hare lost no time in spreading the news of their enemy’s end to his
friends of the jungle.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE STORY OF CALIPH STORK
I.
Caliph Chasid, of Bagdad, was resting comfortably on his divan one fine
afternoon. He was smoking a long pipe, and from time to time he sipped a
little coffee which a slave handed to him, and after each sip he stroked
his long beard with an air of enjoyment. In short, anyone could see that
the Caliph was in an excellent humor. This was, in fact, the best time
of day in which to approach him, for just now he was pretty sure to be
both affable and in good spirits, and for this reason the Grand Vizier
Mansor always chose this hour in which to pay his daily visit.
He arrived as usual this afternoon, but, contrary to his usual custom,
with an anxious face. The Caliph withdrew his pipe for a moment from his
lips and asked, “Why do you look so anxious, Grand Vizier?”
The Grand Vizier crossed his arms on his breast and bent low before his
master as he answered:
“Oh, my lord! Whether my countenance be anxious or not I know not, but
down below in the court of the palace is a pedler with such beautiful
things that I cannot help feeling annoyed at having so little money to
spare.”
The Caliph, who had wished for some time past to give his Grand Vizier a
present, ordered his black slave to bring the pedler before him at once.
The slave soon returned, followed by the pedler, a short, stout man with
a swarthy face, and dressed in very ragged clothes. He carried a box
containing all manner of wares—strings of pearls, rings, richly mounted
pistols, goblets, and combs. The Caliph and his Vizier inspected
everything, and the Caliph chose some handsome pistols for himself and
Mansor, and a jeweled comb for the Vizier’s wife. Just as the pedler was
about to close his box, the Caliph noticed a small drawer, and asked if
there was anything else in it for sale. The pedler opened the drawer and
showed them a box containing a black powder, and a scroll written in
strange characters, which neither the Caliph nor Mansor could read.
“I got these two articles from a merchant who had picked them up in the
street at Mecca,” said the pedler. “I do not know what they may contain,
but as they are of no use to me, you are welcome to have them for a
trifle.”
The Caliph, who liked to have old manuscripts in his library, even
though he could not read them, purchased the scroll and the box, and
dismissed the pedler. Then, being anxious to know what might be the
contents of the scroll, he asked the Vizier if he did not know of anyone
who might be able to decipher it.
“Most gracious lord and master,” replied the Vizier, “near the great
Mosque lives a man called Selim the learned, who knows every language
under the sun. Send for him; it may be that he will be able to interpret
those mysterious characters.”
The learned Selim was summoned immediately.
“Selim,” said the Caliph, “I hear you are a scholar. Look well at this
scroll and see whether you can read it. If you can, I will give you a
robe of honor; but if you fail, I will order you to receive twelve
strokes on your cheeks, and five-and-twenty on the soles of your feet,
because you have been falsely called Selim the learned.”
Selim prostrated himself and said, “Be it according to your will, oh
master!” Then he gazed long at the scroll. Suddenly he exclaimed: “May I
die, oh, my Lord, if this isn’t Latin!”
“Well,” said the Caliph, “if it is Latin, let us hear what it means.”
So Selim began to translate: “Thou who mayest find this, praise Allah
for his mercy. Whoever shall snuff the powder in this box, and at the
same time pronounce the word ‘Mutabor!’ can transform himself into any
creature he likes, and will understand the language of all animals. When
he wishes to resume the human form, he has only to look three times
toward the east, and to repeat the same word. Be careful, however, when
wearing the shape of some beast or bird, not to laugh, or thou wilt
certainly forget the magic word and remain an animal forever.”
When Selim the learned had read this the Caliph was delighted. He made
the wise man swear not to tell the matter to anyone, gave him a splendid
robe, and dismissed him. Then he said to the Vizier, “That’s what I call
a good bargain, Mansor. I am longing for the moment when I can become
some animal. To-morrow morning I shall expect you early; we will go into
the country, take some snuff from my box, and then hear what is being
said in air, earth, and water.”
II.
Next morning Caliph Chasid had barely finished dressing and breakfasting
when the Grand Vizier arrived, according to orders, to accompany him on
his expedition. The Caliph stuck the snuff-box in his girdle, and,
having desired his servants to remain at home, started off with the
Grand Vizier only in attendance. First they walked through the palace
gardens, but they looked in vain for some creature which would tempt
them to try their magic powder. At length the Vizier suggested going
further on to a pond which lay beyond the town, and where he had often
seen a variety of creatures, especially storks, whose grave, dignified
appearance and constant chatter had often attracted his attention.
The Caliph consented, and they went straight to the pond. As soon as
they arrived they remarked a stork strutting up and down with a stately
air, hunting for frogs, and now and then muttering something to itself.
At the same time they saw another stork far above in the sky flying
toward the same spot.
“I would wager my beard, most gracious master,” said the Grand Vizier,
“that these two long-legs will have a good chat together. How would it
be if we turned ourselves into storks?”
“Well said,” replied the Caliph; “but first let us remember carefully
how we are to become men once more. Bow three times toward the east and
say ‘Mutabor!’ and I shall be Caliph and you my Grand Vizier again. But
for Heaven’s sake don’t laugh or we are lost.”
As the Caliph spoke he saw the second stork circling round his head and
gradually flying towards the earth. Quickly he drew the box from his
girdle, took a good pinch of the snuff, and offered one to Mansor, who
also took one, and both cried together “Mutabor!”
Instantly their legs shriveled up and grew thin and red; their smart
yellow slippers turned to clumsy stork’s feet. Their arms to wings;
their necks began to sprout from between their shoulders and grew a yard
long; their beards disappeared, and their bodies were covered with
feathers.
“You’ve got a fine long bill, Sir Vizier,” cried the Caliph, after
standing for some time lost in astonishment. “By the beard of the
Prophet I never saw such a thing in all my life!”
“My very humble thanks,” replied the Grand Vizier, as he bent his long
neck; “but if I may venture to say so, your Highness is even handsomer
as a stork than as a Caliph. But come, if it so pleases you, let us go
near our comrades there and find out whether we really do understand the
language of storks.”
Meantime the second stork had reached the ground. It first scraped its
bill with its claw, stroked down its feathers, and then advanced towards
the first stork. The two newly made storks lost no time in drawing near,
and to their amazement overheard the following conversation:
“Good-morning, Dame Longlegs. You are out early this morning!”
“Yes, indeed, dear Chatterbill! I am getting myself a morsel of
breakfast. May I offer you a joint of lizard or a frog’s thigh?”
“A thousand thanks, but I have really no appetite this morning. I am
here for a very different purpose. I am to dance to-day before my
father’s guests, and I have come to the meadow for a little quiet
practice.”
Thereupon the young stork began to move about with the most wonderful
steps. The Caliph and Mansor looked on with surprise for some time; but
when at last she balanced herself in a picturesque attitude on one leg,
and flapped her wings gracefully up and down, they could hold out no
longer; a prolonged peal burst from each of their bills, and it was some
time before they could recover their composure. The Caliph was the first
to collect himself. “That was the best joke,” said he, “I’ve ever seen.
It’s a pity the stupid creatures were scared away by our laughter, or no
doubt they would have sung next!”
Suddenly, however, the Vizier remembered how strictly they had been
warned not to laugh during their transformation. He at once communicated
his fears to the Caliph, who exclaimed, “By Mecca and Medina! It would
indeed prove but a poor joke if I had to remain a stork for the
remainder of my days! Do just try and remember the stupid word, for it
has slipped my memory.”
“We must bow three times eastwards and say ‘Mu—mu—mu——’”
They turned to the east and fell to bowing till their bills touched the
ground, but, oh, horror—the magic word was quite forgotten, and however
often the Caliph bowed and however touchingly his Vizier cried “Mu—mu——”
they could not recall it, and the unhappy Chasid and Mansor remained
storks as they were.
III.
The two enchanted birds wandered sadly on through the meadows. In their
misery they could not think what to do next. They could not rid
themselves of their new forms; there was no use in returning to the town
and saying who they were; for who would believe a stork who announced
that he was a Caliph; and even if they did believe him, would the people
of Bagdad consent to let a stork rule over them?