Over a half thousand years ago there lived in a northern village, near
Ping Yang, a wood-cutter named Keel Wee.
He owned a sturdy bull that carried on its back the fuel which he daily
cut on the mountains and sold on the main street of his village, at the
fair, which was held every fifth day. The docile brute could carry a
load of faggots and brushwood piled many feet high over his head and
tied down with ropes, so that at a distance nothing but his legs were
visible. This beast, although so huge, was the gentlest creature
imaginable. The children were all very fond of the big fellow and were
accustomed to play with him as if he were one of them, or at least like
a pet dog. The reason of this was that when but a week old the
bull-calf had been taken from his cow-mother and brought up in the
family with the girls and boys. Only the puppy dog, that also occupied
the house with the young folks, was a great favorite.
On a fine summer morning, Keel Wee, leaving his beast behind, went up
on the mountain and cut enough wood to load up and bring down on
another day.
His wife, as she shouted good-bye, told him to be sure and be home in
time for supper, for their eldest son had gone a-fishing and a good
string of perch was expected.
Shouldering his axe, he started up the mountain path. He had to go
pretty far, for near towns or cities in Korea all the timber had long
since been cut away. Every year the woodmen have to search farther
afield to find fuel.
Arriving in the woods where there was a clearing, Keel Wee prepared to
wield his trusty axe. He was about to take off his big hat and outer
coat and lay about him, when he spied, at some distance off, two
fairy-like beings. They had long hair, looked very wise and were
dressed in costume of the Chow dynasty of two thousand years ago. They
sat on stones and played the game of go-ban.
Coming near, the woodman took a respectful attitude, and, looking on,
soon became interested in the moves of the players. So far from being
at all disconcerted at the presence of a stranger, the two fairies
seemed by eye-winks to invite him to look on. Feeling quite proud to be
thus honored, Keel Wee, leaning his chin upon the handle of his axe,
became absorbed in the game and by and by grew quite excited.
Forgetting himself and his manners, he stretched forth his right hand
to move one of the pieces. At once the fairy nearest to him gave him a
crack on the fingers for his impudence, and jerked Keel Wee’s arm away.
Then without saying a word, he took out from his wallet something that
looked like a persimmon seed and put in the woodman’s mouth. After this
all three were perfectly quiet.
Hour after hour the game proceeded and the players grew more intensely
interested. As for Keel Wee, his eyes never winked, so hard did he look
at the yellow board covered with the black and white pieces. Several
times, when he thought he saw how the fairy on his right could beat in
the game, or the one on his left make a better move, he felt like
telling one or the other so. When, however, he tried to move his
tongue, he found he could not speak, or utter a cry. Somehow he felt as
if he were in a dream.
Yet all the time he became more and more wrapped up in the game, so
that he determined to see the end of it and know which player had
beaten. He forgot that with mountain spirits there is no night or
morning, or passing of the hours, nor do they care anything about
clocks or bells, because in fairy-land there is no time.
All the while Keel Wee was leaning with his chin on the stout
axe-handle, holding it with both hands under his neck. He took no note
of the sun or stars, daylight or darkness and he felt no hunger.
Suddenly the timber of his axe seemed to turn to dust and his chin
fell. The next thing he knew he had lost his support. Down went his
head, and forward fell his body as he tumbled over, upsetting the
checker-board, breaking up the game and scattering the round pieces
hither and yon over the ground.
Awaking as out of a sleep, and thoroughly ashamed of himself for his
impoliteness, he tried to pick himself up and humbly apologize for the
accident which he had caused by his own rudeness. He expected and was
ready for a good scolding. But when he looked up, the fairies were
gone. Nothing whatever was seen of them or of the playboard and
checkers, nor any signs of their having been there, except that when he
put his hand on the flat stones, which they had used as seats, he found
them warm to his touch.
But where was his axe-handle and what had happened? When he had left
home, he had come straight from the barber shop, with his face smooth
and clean shaven. Now he put his hand to his breast and found that he
had grown a long white beard. As for the iron axe-head, it was there,
but rusty and half buried in the ground. He had worn one of the big
farmer’s hats, which, when turned upside down, might hold a bushel or
two of turnips, and when fastened to his head spread over his shoulders
like a roof. Where could it be? He looked about him to find it, but saw
only the bits of the slats inside the frame and a few scraps of what
remained, for the rest had long ago rotted away. Meanwhile he had
discovered that his joints were stiff, and he felt like an old man. His
clothes were a mass of rags, his hemp sandals were no more, and, on
both fingers and toes, had grown long nails like bird’s claws. His hair
had burst its topknot string and hung down his back like a woman’s,
only it was grayish-white.
Wondering what it all meant, Keel Wee hobbled down the mountain and
found the road that ran into the main street of his village. Rocks and
hills, rivers and rills were there, but what a change! Instead of the
two grinning idol posts, of male and female faces, carved out of trunks
and trees, with sawed-out teeth painted white, and artificial ear flaps
of wood nailed on, such as had stood before every Korean hamlet since
the days of Kija, there was a line of high thick poles, with iron wire
stretching from one to the other and for miles in the distance. These,
he found out afterward, were called “lightning-thread-trees” (telegraph
poles). In place of the rambling and sprawling three-sided thatched
houses and yards, divided off with mats hung from sticks, there was a
well-built but odd-looking office of painted wood, with openings
through which he saw Korean young men sitting. They were dressed in
strange clothes and were fingering outlandish-looking clicking
instruments.
His curiosity prompted him to go up and look more closely, when
something bumped against his nose and nearly knocked him over. When he
tried again to get closer, his face was flattened, his nose nearly
broken, and his lips knocked against his teeth so that they swelled.
Feeling with his hands to solve the mystery, he touched something hard,
which he could yet see through. Just then he heard a young man inside
shout to him in Korean:
“Here, you mountain daddy, let that glass alone.”
“Glass? Glass?” thought Keel Wee. “What is that?” Yet he could not
speak.
He had hardly drawn a long breath when, looking down along two lines of
shining iron in the street, he saw a house on wheels coming right at
him. There was no horse, no donkey, no bull, no man pulling or pushing
it, but overhead was a long pole, at the end of which, where it touched
a string, as he thought, though it was an iron wire, was something that
looked like a squirrel. It was going round and round as if turning
somersaults and seemed to be pushing the moving house along. Inside,
near the same stuff which he had already heard was glass, sat a dozen
or so Koreans. The whole thing, wheels and all, nearly ran over him as
it thundered by, and his mouth opened in wonder, while a man on the end
shouted rudely:
“Hello, old goblin, where did you get your pumpkin mouth? Look out or
you’ll swallow the moon. Get out of the way of the trolley.”
Thus did the man they called conductor, or guard, make fun of the poor
old fellow, for indeed he did look like one of the mummers, who on New
Year’s Eve amuse or scare the children by putting on their shoulders
the huge round devil heads and false faces that represent the
aborigines of Korea and the goblins that once lived in the mountains.
These masks are usually shaped like a melon and are cut with eyes, nose
and mouth, like those which American boys have fun with on All Hallow
Eve.
This was just the trouble. The woodman in tatters, with no topknot,
long hair down his back and a white beard floating over his breast,
leaning on a long white stick as he hobbled down the street, looked
just like one of the ancient aborigines that had long ago been driven
into the mountains. Nurses and old women frightened naughty children by
simply mentioning their names. When one of these mountain men, odd
creatures that were half savage in dress and ways, came into the town,
all the children laughed and the big dogs barked, while the little ones
ran away, for the sight was so unusual. Even the bulls bellowed, the
donkeys balked, and the pigs squeaked, as Keel Wee came near. No wonder
he was taken for a mountain granddaddy, or a bumpkin dressed up like
one, for few of the city or village folks had really ever seen one of
the mountain aborigines, any more than they had seen tigers, that are
plentiful farther away, but which only the hunters ever caught sight
of.
More and more bewildered, Keel Wee wended his way further into the
town. He saw that the men no longer wore topknots, or chignons, nor did
the lads have on the long braid down their back, which showed that they
were youths, but not married yet. Just then some rough boys, supposing
that maybe some rustic gawk had mistaken the time of year, jeered at
him and cried:
“Hello, hermit, do you think it’s New Year’s Eve?”
Keel Wee thought he had better ask some questions. So catching sight of
a dignified looking gentleman, in black broad-brimmed hat and flowing
white clothes, who was coming down the street and toward him, Keel Wee
bowed his head low, almost to the ground. As he did so, the stone put
in his mouth by the fairies dropped out, and his tongue was loosed. He
inquired as follows:
“Exalted sir, can you tell me where may be the wretched hut of my
miserable wife and children? She was the daughter of Gee Kim, and your
contemptible slave is Keel Wee.”
The gentleman, whose dress showed that he was a scholar and person of
rank, looked long and hard at the questioner, to satisfy himself that
he was not being mocked, or imposed upon by a jester, rope-dancer,
sorcerer, or some such disreputable person, and then cried:
“Heavens! man, are you a beggar-spirit of the mountains? Your speech
sounds like the dialect spoken in these parts five hundred years ago.
In that time such a family lived here, but the head of it, a
wood-cutter and fuel-seller, is reported to have gone up into the
mountains and was eaten up by a tiger. Yonder in the graveyard are
buried ten or more generations of his descendants.”
“Tell me, kind sir, what has happened here since King Wang died. It was
under his reign that I was born and lived in this village.”
Still eyeing the questioner, as if expecting to see him jump out of his
rags and declare himself a mummer and the whole affair a joke, the
kindly gentleman proceeded to give in outline the history of Korea
during the previous five hundred years. There had been many kings. The
Tartars first, and then the Japanese had invaded the land. A great war
between the Mikado’s men and the Chinese had taken place. It was just
over and now people rode in cars, talked hundreds of miles over wires,
and traveled over iron rails as fast as a dragon could fly, drawn by a
steel horse that drank water and fed on wood and black stones that
burned. In a word, Korea was in an “era of civilization.”
This was too much for Keel Wee. He now realized that he had lived ten
times longer than the average man. So, hobbling over to the graveyard,
he stumbled among the mounds until he found that one of his clan where
the bones of his wife and children lay. Next morning, all that was seen
of Keel Wee was a mass of dust, rags, some bones, and much long white
hair. Yet, when they buried him, there sprang up around and on his
grave strange flowers that no one had ever seen in city or village, but
which bloomed only on the high mountains.