groped his way to the spring and bathed his wounds, then sat down under
the tree and prayed God for help and protection.
When night came he fell asleep and he slept until midnight when he was
awakened by the sound of voices at the spring. A company of Vilas were
bathing and playing as they bathed. He was blind, as you remember, so he
couldn't see their beautiful forms but he knew that they must be Vilas
from their voices which were as sweet as gurgling waters and murmuring
treetops. Human voices are never half so lovely. Yes, they must be Vilas
from the mountains and the woods.
"Ho, sisters!" cried one of them, "if only men knew that we bathed in
this spring, they could come to-morrow and be healed in its water--the
maimed and the halt and blind! To-morrow this water would heal even the
king's daughter who is afflicted with leprosy!"
When they were gone the blind man crept down to the spring and bathed
his face. At the first touch of the healing water his wounds closed and
his sight was restored. With a heart full of gratitude he knelt down and
thanked God for the miracle. Then when morning came he filled a vessel
with the precious water and hurried to the king's palace.
"Tell the king," he said to the guards, "that I have come to heal his
daughter."
The king admitted him at once to the princess's chamber and said to him:
"If you succeed in healing the princess you shall have her in marriage
and in addition I shall make you heir to my kingdom."
The moment the princess was bathed in the healing water she, too, was
restored to health and at once the proclamation was sent forth that the
princess was recovered and was soon to marry the man who had cured her.
Now when the evil older brother heard who this fortunate man was, he
could scarcely contain himself for rage and envy.
"How did that fool get back his sight?" he asked himself. "What magic
secret did he discover that enabled him to heal the princess of leprosy?
Whatever it was he got it under the fir tree for where else could he
have got it? I've a good mind to go to the fir tree myself to-night and
see what happens."
The more he thought about it the surer he became that if he went to the
fir tree in exactly the same condition as his brother he, too, would
have some wonderful good fortune. So when night came he seated himself
under the tree, gouged out his eyes with a knife, and then waited to see
what would happen. At midnight he heard the Vilas at the spring but
their voices were not sweet but shrill and angry.
"Sisters," they cried to each other, "have you heard? The princess is
healed of leprosy and it was with the water of this, our spring! Who has
spied on us?"
"While we were talking last night," said one, "some man may have been
hiding under the fir tree."
"Let us see if there is any one there to-night!" cried another.
With that they all rushed to the fir tree and took the man they found
sitting there and in a fury tore him to pieces as though he were a bit
of old cloth. So that was the end of the wicked older brother. And you
will notice that in his hour of need his friend, the Devil, was not on
hand to help him.
So after all it was the younger brother who finally inherited all his
father's wealth. In addition he married the princess and was made heir
to the kingdom. So you see Good is stronger than Evil in this world.
[Illustration]
LORD AND MASTER
[Illustration]
_The Story of the Man Who Understood the Language of the Animals_
LORD AND MASTER
There was once a young shepherd, an honest industrious fellow, who
passed most of his time in the hills looking after his master's flocks.
One afternoon he happened upon a bush which some gipsies had set a-fire.
As he stopped to watch it he heard a strange hissing, whistling sound.
He went as close as he could and in the center of the bush which the
flames had not yet reached he saw a snake. It was writhing and trembling
in fear.
"Help me, brother!" the snake said. "Help me and I will reward you
richly! I swear I will!"
The shepherd put the end of his crook over the flames and the snake
crawled up the crook, up the shepherd's arm, and wound itself about his
neck.
It was now the shepherd's turn to be frightened.
"What! Will you kill me as a reward for my kindness?"
"Nay," the snake said. "Do not be afraid. I will not injure you. Do as I
tell you and you will have nothing to regret. My father is the Tsar of
the Snakes. Take me to him and he will reward you for rescuing me."
"But I can't leave my flocks," the shepherd said.
"Have no fear about your flocks. Nothing will happen to them in your
absence."
"But I don't know where your father, the Tsar of the Snakes, lives," the
shepherd protested.
"I'll show you," the snake said. "I'll point out the direction with my
tail."
So in spite of his misgivings the shepherd at last agreed to the snake's
suggestion and, leaving his sheep in God's care, started up the
mountainside in the direction which the snake pointed out with his tail.
They reached finally a sort of pocket in the hills which was sandy and
rocky and exposed to the full force of the sun. The snake directed the
shepherd to the entrance of a cave which had a huge door composed
entirely of living snakes closely wound together. The shepherd's snake
said something in his breathy whistling voice and the door pulled itself
apart and allowed the shepherd to enter the cave.
"Now," whispered the snake, "when my father asks you what you want, tell
him you want the gift of understanding the language of the animals. He
will try to give you something else but don't you accept anything
else."
The Tsar of the Snakes was a huge creature clothed in a gorgeous skin of
red and yellow and black. They found him reclining on a golden table
with a crown of precious jewels on his head.
"My son!" he cried, when he saw the snake that was still wound about the
shepherd's neck, "where have you been? We have been grieving for you
thinking you had met some misfortune."
"But for this shepherd, my father," the snake said, "I should have been
burned to death. He rescued me."
Then he told the Tsar of the Snakes the whole story. The Tsar of the
Snakes listened carefully and when the Snake Prince was finished he
turned to the shepherd and said:
"Sir, I am deeply indebted to you for saving my son's life. Ask of me
anything I can grant and it is yours."
"Give me then," the shepherd said, "the gift of understanding the
language of the animals."
"Not that!" the Tsar of the Snakes cried. "It is too dangerous a gift!
If ever you confessed to some other human being that you had this gift
and repeated what some animal said you would die that instant. Ask
something else--anything else!"
"No," the shepherd insisted. "Give me that or nothing!"
When the Tsar of the Snakes saw that the shepherd was not to be
dissuaded, he said:
"Very well, then. What must be, must be. Come now very close to me and
put your mouth against my mouth. Do you breathe three times into my
mouth and I shall breathe three times into your mouth. Then you will
understand the language of the animals."
So the shepherd put his mouth close to the mouth of the Tsar of the
Snakes and breathed into it three times. Then the Tsar of the Snakes
breathed into the shepherd's mouth three times.
"Now you will understand the language of all animals," the Tsar of the
Snakes said. "It is a dangerous gift but if you remember my warning it
may bring you great prosperity. Farewell."
So the shepherd went back to his flocks and lay down under a fir tree to
rest. Presently he wondered whether he hadn't been asleep and dreamed
about the burning bush and the snake and the Tsar of the Snakes.
"It can't be real!" he said to himself. "How can I or any man understand
the language of the animals!"
[Illustration: _The Tsar of the Snakes Listened Carefully_]
Just then two ravens alighted on the tree above his head.
"Caw! Caw!" said one of them. "Wouldn't that shepherd be surprised if he
knew he was lying on some buried treasure!"
"Caw! Caw!" laughed the other. "He'll never know for he's only one of
those poor stupid human beings who can't understand a word we say!"
The ravens flew off and the shepherd sat up and rubbed his eyes to make
sure he was awake.
"Am I dreaming again?" he asked himself, "or did I really understand
them? Well, I'll soon find out. To-morrow I'll bring a spade and then if
there's any treasure buried under this tree I won't be long in digging
it up."
He marked the spot where he had been lying when the ravens spoke and the
next day came back and dug. Three feet below the surface his spade hit
something that proved to be a big iron pot chock-full of golden ducats.
He carried the treasure to his master and his master was so pleased at
his honesty that he gave him half of it.
So now the shepherd was able to set up in life for himself. He bought a
farm and married and "settled down" as the saying is. The years went by
and he grew prosperous and rich.
One Christmas Eve he said to his wife:
"I'm thinking, wife, of my youth when I was a shepherd and how lonely it
was at times like this when other folk were at home seated about the
fire and making merry. Let us give our shepherds out on the hills a
surprise to-night. We can take them meats and wine and other food and
then I'll go out and guard the sheep while you serve them a fine
Christmas supper."
His wife agreed and they mounted their horses and rode out to the hills
taking with them great hampers of food and wine. The wife entertained
the shepherds in their hut with a big jolly supper and the master stayed
outside all night with the dogs guarding the sheep.
At midnight some wolves came prowling around the flocks.
"See here," they said to the dogs, "if you let us in we'll kill the
sheep and then we'll divide the carcasses with you."
The dogs for the most part were young and thoughtless and ready enough
to fall in with the wolves' suggestion. But there was one old sheepdog
that nothing could tempt.
"I've only a few teeth left!" he growled, "but those few are still
sound and let any wolf come a step nearer and I'll tear him to pieces!"
All night long that one old sheepdog stood on guard faithful to duty.
In the morning the master ordered the shepherds to kill the young dogs
and train in new ones.
The shepherds were surprised.
"The master's a clever one!" they told each other. "Just one night and
he found out how worthless those young dogs were!"
As the farmer and his wife were riding home, the farmer's horse ran on
ahead.
"Not so fast!" begged the mare that the wife was riding. "Have pity on
me and go more slowly. You have only the master to carry while I'm all
laden down with hampers and empty jugs and I don't know what and with a
mistress that's twice as big as she was a few months ago!"
The farmer when he heard the mare's complaint burst out laughing.
"What are you laughing at?" his wife asked sharply.
"Nothing," the farmer said.
"You're laughing at me!" the wife declared, "I know you are, just
because I'm so big that I'm awkward in the saddle!"
"No, my dear, I'm not laughing at you, truly I'm not."
"You are! I know you are and I don't think it's kind of you, either!"
And the wife burst into tears.
"Now, my dear," the husband said, soothingly, "be sensible and believe
me when I tell you I was not laughing at you."
"Then what were you laughing at?"
"I can't tell you because if I did tell you then I should die the next
moment."
"Die the next moment!" the wife said. "Stuff and nonsense! It must be a
strange thing indeed if a man can't tell his own wife for fear he'll die
the next moment!"
The more she thought about it the more enraged she became and also the
more curious.
"If you really loved me, you'd tell me!" she wept.
All the way home she kept on worrying her husband and nagging at him
until at last in utter exhaustion he said:
"Peace, woman, peace, and I'll tell you! But first let me have my coffin
made for as I've warned you I shall die the moment I've spoken."
So he had the village carpenter build him a coffin and when it was
ready he stood it up on end against the house and got inside of it.
The news of what was about to happen spread among the animals and the
faithful old sheepdog hurried down from the hills to be with his master
at the end. He lay down at the foot of the coffin and howled.
"I've one faithful friend!" the farmer said. "Wife, give the poor dog
some bread before I tell you my secret and die."
The woman threw the old dog a hunk of bread but the dog refused it and
kept on howling.
The rooster from the barnyard came running up and began gobbling down
the bread with great gusto.
"You shameless animal!" the dog said sternly. "Here's the poor master
about to die on account of that foolish inquisitive wife of his and yet
you have so little feeling that you're delighted at the chance to gorge
yourself with food!"
The rooster clucked scornfully.
"See here, old dog, I can't waste any sympathy on that master of ours!
Any man who allows his wife to bully him deserves whatever he gets! Look
at me!" The rooster puffed out his chest and gave a loud:
"_Cock-a-doodle-do_! I've got fifty wives but do they bully me? They do
not! Whenever I find a nice fat worm or a grain of corn I set up an
awful noise and gather them all around me. Then I eat it while they
stand there and admire me! No, no, old dog, I have no patience with the
master! He has only one wife and he doesn't know how to rule her!"
"The rooster's right!" thought the farmer.
With that he jumped out of the coffin, picked up a stick, and gave his
wife a sound beating.
"So you'd kill your husband just to satisfy your curiosity, would you?"
he shouted angrily. "Very well, then! Take this and this and this! And
if your curiosity is still unsatisfied I'll give you some more!"
"Stop! Stop! Stop!" cried the wife. "Do you want to injure me!"
But the farmer did not stop until he had given her such a whipping that
she never forgot it. When it was over she begged his pardon humbly and
promised never again to ask him anything that he didn't want to tell
her.
"You just mustn't let me be so foolish again!" she said.
"I won't!" the farmer declared.
Then he puffed out his chest and strutted about until you'd have laughed
to see him--he looked so much like the rooster!
THE SILVER TRACKS
[Illustration]
_The Story of the Poor Man Who Befriended a Beggar_
THE SILVER TRACKS
There were once three brothers who lived in the same village. One of
them was very rich. He had houses and fields and barns. He had nothing
to spend his money on for he had no children and his wife was as saving
and hardworking as himself. The second brother was not so rich but he,
too, was prosperous. He had one son and all his thought was to
accumulate money and property in order to leave his son rich. He schemed
and worked and slaved and made his wife do the same.
The third brother was industrious but very poor. He worked early and
late and never took a holiday. He couldn't afford to for he had a wife
and ten children and only by working every hour of the day and often far
into the night could he earn enough to buy food for so large a family.
He was a simple man and a good man and he taught his children that the
most important thing for them to do in life was to love God and be kind
to their fellowmen.
Now it happened that once, when our Lord Christ was on earth testing out
the hearts of men, he came in the guise of a beggar to the village
where the three brothers lived. He came in a brokendown cart driving a
wheezy old horse. It was cold and raining and night was falling.
The Beggar knocked at the door of the richest brother and said:
"I pray you in God's name give shelter for the night to me and my
horse."
"What!" cried the rich man, "do you suppose I have nothing better to do
than give shelter to such as you! Be off with you or I'll call my men
and have them give you the beating you deserve!"
The Beggar left without another word and went to the house of the next
brother. He was civil at least to the Beggar and pretended that he was
sorry to refuse him.
"I'd accommodate you if I could," he said, "but the truth is I can't. My
house isn't as big as it looks and I have many people dependent on me.
Just go on a little farther and I'm sure you'll find some one who will
take you in."
The Beggar turned his horse's head and went to the tiny little house
where the poor brother lived with his big family. He knocked on the door
and begged for shelter.
"Come in, brother," said the Poor Man. "We're pretty crowded here but
we'll find a place for you."
"And my horse," the Beggar said; "I'm afraid to leave him out in the
rain and cold."
"We'll stable him with my donkey," the Poor Man said. "Do you come in
here by the fire and dry off and I'll see to the horse."
The Poor Man pulled out his own cart until it was exposed to the rain in
order to make a dry place in the shed for the Beggar's cart. Then he led
the Beggar's gaunt horse into his tiny stable and fed him for the night
out of his own slender store of oats and hay.
He and his family shared their evening meal with the Beggar and then
made up for him a bed of straw near the fire where he was able to pass
the night comfortably and warmly.
The next morning as he was leaving he said to the Poor Man:
"You must come sometime to my house and visit me and let me return the
hospitality you have shown me."
"Where do you live?" the Poor Man asked.
"You can always find me," the Beggar said, "by following the tracks of
my cart. You will know them because they are broader than the tracks of
any other cart. You will come, won't you?"
"Yes," the Poor Man promised, "I will if ever I have time."
They bade each other good-by and the Beggar drove slowly off. Then the
Poor Man went to the shed to get his own cart and the first thing he saw
were two large silver bolts lying on the ground.
"They must have fallen from the Beggar's cart!" he thought to himself
and he ran out to the road to see whether the Beggar were still in
sight. But he and the cart had disappeared.
"I hope he has no accident on account of those bolts!" the Poor Man
said.
When he went to the stable to get his donkey he found four golden
horse-shoes where the Beggar's horse had been standing.
"Four golden horse-shoes!" he exclaimed. "I ought to return them and the
silver bolts at once! But I can't to-day, I'm too busy. Well, I'll hide
them safely away and some afternoon when I have a few hours to spare
I'll follow the tracks of the cart to the Beggar's house."
That afternoon he met his two rich brothers and told them about the
Beggar.
"Silver bolts!" cried one.
"Golden horse-shoes!" cried the other. "Take us home with you and let us
see them!"
So they went home with the Poor Man and saw for themselves the silver
bolts and the golden horse-shoes.
"Brothers," the Poor Man said, "if either of you have time I wish you'd
take these things and return them to the Beggar."
They both said, no, no, they hadn't time, but they would like to know
where the Beggar lived.
"He said I could always find him," the Poor Man said, "by following the
tracks of his cart."
"The tracks of his cart!" echoed the other two. "Show us the tracks of
his cart!"
They went to the shed where the cart had been and followed the tracks
out to the road. Even on the road they were easy to see for besides
being wider than any other cart tracks they shone white like glistening
silver.
"H'm! H'm!" murmured the two rich brothers.
"You don't think either of you have time to follow them to the Beggar's
house?" the Poor Man said.
"No! Of course not! Of course not!" they both answered.
But in his heart each had already decided to go at once and see for
himself what kind of a Beggar this was who had silver bolts in his cart
and golden shoes on his horse.
The oldest brother went the very next day driving a new wagon and a fine
horse. The silver tracks led through woods and fields and over hills.
They came at last to a river which was spanned by a wooden bridge. It
was cunningly constructed of timbers beautifully hewn. The rich man had
never seen such wood used on a bridge.
By the roadside beyond the bridge there was a pigsty with one trough
full of corn and another full of water. There were two sows in the sty
and they were fighting each other and tearing at each other and paying
no attention whatever to all the good food in the trough.
A little farther on there was another river and over it another
wonderful bridge, this one made entirely of stone.
Beyond it the rich man came to a meadow where there was a hayrick around
which two angry bulls were chasing each other and goring each other
until the blood spurted.
"I wonder some one doesn't stop them!" the rich man thought to himself.
The next river had an iron bridge, more beautiful than the rich man had
ever supposed an iron bridge could be.
Beyond the iron bridge there was a field and a bush and two angry rams
that were chasing each other around the bush and fighting. Their horns
cracked as they met and their hides were torn and bleeding where they
had gored each other.
"I never saw so many angry fighting animals!" the rich man thought to
himself.
The next bridge glowed in the sun like the embers of a fire for it was
built entirely of shining copper--copper rivets, copper plates, copper
beams, nothing but copper.
The silver tracks led over the copper bridge into a broad valley. By the
roadside there was a high crossbar from which depended heavy cuts of
meat--lamb and pork and veal. Two large bitch dogs were jumping at the
meat and then snarling and snapping at each other.
The next bridge was the loveliest of them all for it was built of white
gleaming silver.
The rich man climbed down from his wagon and examined it closely.
"It would be worth a man's while to carry home a piece of this bridge!"
he muttered to himself.
He tried the rivets, he shook the railing. At last he found four loose
bolts which he was able to pull out. The four together were so heavy
that he was scarcely able to lift them. He looked cautiously about and
when he saw that no one was looking, he slipped them one by one into the
bottom of his wagon and covered them with straw. Then he turned his
horse's head and drove home as fast as he could. It was midnight when he
got there and nobody about to spy on him as he hid the silver bolts in
the hay.
The next day when he went out alone to gloat over his treasure he found
instead of four heavy silver bolts four pieces of wood!
So that's what the rich brother got for following the silver tracks.
A day or two later without saying a word to any one, the second brother
decided that he would follow the silver tracks and have a look at the
strange Beggar whose cart had silver bolts and whose wheezy horse had
golden shoes.
"Perhaps if I keep my wits about me I'll be able to pick up a few golden
horse-shoes. Not many boys inherit golden horse-shoes from their
fathers!"
[Illustration: _The Beggar's Garden_]
Well, the second brother went over exactly the same route and saw
exactly the same things. He crossed all those wonderful bridges that his
brother had crossed--the wooden bridge, the stone bridge, the iron
bridge, the copper bridge, the silver bridge, and he saw all those
angry animals still trying to gore each other to death.
He didn't stop at the silver bridge for he thought to himself:
"Perhaps the next bridge will be golden and if it is I may be able to
break off a piece of it!"
Beyond the silver bridge was another broad valley and the second brother
saw many strange sights as he drove through. There was a man standing
alone in a field and trying to beat off a flock of ravens that were
swooping down and pecking at his eyes. Near him was an old man with
snow-white hair who was making loud outcries to heaven praying to be
delivered from the two oxen who were munching at his white hair as
though it were so much hay. They ate great wisps of it and the more they
ate the more grew out.
There was an apple-tree heavily laden with ripe fruit and a hungry man
forever reaching up and plucking an apple. The apples were apples of
Sodom and always as the hungry man raised each new one to his mouth it
turned to ashes.
In another place a thirsty man was reaching with a dipper into a well
and always, just as he was about to scoop up some water, the well moved
away from under the dipper.
"What a strange country this is!" thought the second brother as he drove
on.