Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack. His mother was very
poor, but she was hard-working and tried to get her living by spinning.
Jack was so lazy he never did anything to help her. So, at last, she said
that he should not eat his porridge unless he earned it.
At this out shuffled Jack and hired himself to a farmer and got for his
day’s labor a shining new penny. Home he went with it, but on the way let
it slip out of his fingers into a brook, unknown to himself.
When his mother saw him smiling and holding his fist closed, she said,
“Well, Jack, did you earn your porridge to-day?”
“That I did, mother,” said Jack, “and here’s the penny.” With that he
opened his empty hand.
“A penny,” cried his mother, in high delight, “give it here, my darling
boy.” But when she saw the empty hand she changed her tune. “You stupid
lout,” said she, “you’ve lost the good money. That’s no way to bring
home a penny. The safest thing to do with a penny is to put it into your
pocket and come straight home.”
“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” whimpered Jack, “that’s what I’ll
do the next time.” So his mother gave him his supper.
The next day Jack went out again, and this time hired himself to a
cowherd and got for his day’s labor a jug of new milk. Jack took the
jug, squeezed it into the largest pocket of his coat, and set off home,
spilling the milk at every step, so that by the time he got home there
wasn’t a drop left.
When his mother saw his pocket bulging out, she asked, “What have you
there, Jack, my son?”
“A jug of new milk, mother,” answered Jack, tugging it out of his pocket.
“A jug of new milk,” cried his mother, “and you’ve spilled it! Have you
no sense, you ninny-hammer? That’s no way to bring home a jug of milk.
The safest way to carry a jug of milk is to put it on your head and hold
it with both hands and come straight home.”
“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” whimpered Jack, beginning to
blubber; “that’s what I’ll do the next time.” So his mother gave him his
supper that time, too.
Well, the next day Jack hired himself to a farmer, and got for his day’s
labor a fine fresh cream cheese. Jack took that cheese, placed it on his
head, held it down firmly with both hands, and set out home. Now, Jack’s
head was warm and the cheese was soft. So it wasn’t long before it began
to get softer. By the time he reached home part of it had oozed down
over his face and more of it had matted into his hair; he was a sight to
behold.
When his mother saw him, she threw up her arms and cried, “Dearie me,
dearie me, whatever has happened to my own bonny son?”
“Why, nothing, mother,” said Jack, “and see the fine cheese I’ve brought
you home.” With that he took down from his head a bit of grease in each
hand.
“You’ve spoiled a cheese, a fine cream cheese,” screamed his mother.
“Have you no sense at all, at all, in your empty head, you numbskull?
That’s no way to bring home a cheese. The safest thing to do with a
cheese is to take it in both hands, hold it out before you, and come
straight home.”
“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” said Jack, beginning to snuffle,
“that’s what I’ll do the next time.”
So he didn’t go supperless to bed that night either.
It was a baker Jack hired himself to the next day, and at the close of it
the baker gave him a cat. “Your mother will find her a good mouser,” said
he. And Jack said, “Thank you, kindly, sir,” and took the cat. He held
her with both hands out before him and started straight for home. On the
way a mouse scurried across his path and the cat leaped from his hands;
but Jack still held them out, ready for her when she should come back,
and kept on toward home.
When he reached home his mother looked at his hands and said, “What have
you in your hands, Jack?”
“I had a cat, mother,” said he, “a good mouser, but she made after a
mouse and hasn’t come back yet.”
“Get out of my sight,” cried his mother, “before I lose my patience and
do something I might be sorry for. Haven’t you an atom of sense about you
at all, at all, at all? Wouldn’t a child know that’s no way to bring home
a live cat? The safest thing to do with a cat is to tie a string around
her neck, put her on the ground, and draw her home after you.”
“Say no more about it, sweet mother,” cried Jack, bawling outright;
“that’s what I’ll do the very next time.” So his mother wouldn’t see him
starve that night.
Well, the very next day Jack hired out to a butcher, and got for his
day’s labor a splendid shoulder of mutton for Sunday’s dinner, for this
was Saturday. Jack took the mutton, tied a string around it, put it on
the ground, and dragged it home after him in the mud and dirt. So by the
time he got home the meat was completely ruined.
When his mother saw it she was so upset that she threw her apron over her
head and rocked herself to and fro and wept aloud. “If you had the least
grain of sense in you, you useless omadhaun,” she wailed, “you’d have
brought the sweet meat home on your shoulder.”
Jack put his arms around his mother and kissed her and promised to do
that the next time. So she gave him his supper, but they had to make
their Sunday dinner of cabbage.
Monday morning, bright and early, Jack went out once more and hired
himself to a cattle-drover and for his day’s labor got a donkey. Although
Jack was a husky fellow, he found it hard to hoist the donkey on his
shoulder, but mindful of his mother’s grief he got it up and set out home
slowly with the prize.
Now it chanced that on the way home he had to pass the house of a
beautiful girl who unfortunately was deaf and dumb. The doctors said she
would never speak until someone should make her laugh. Many had tried but
without success. In despair her father, who was very rich, had promised
that very day whoever could make her laugh should marry her.
The girl happened to be looking out of the window when Jack came along
with the donkey on his shoulders, its legs sticking up in the air. He
looked so funny she burst into a merry fit of laughter, and at once was
able to hear and speak.
So her father, overjoyed, gave her to Jack with a sackful of money and
more to come.
“My love, your fortune is made,” cried his mother, when she heard the
good news. And she went to live with Jack and his bride, and they all had
plenty and were happy ever after.
Ting-a-ling-a-ling,
Let the wedding bells ring.
—FOLK TALE